Weasels In My Head

WEASELS IN MY HEAD I've had the weasels in my head. I've lived with the storm in my shoe. But if I say this to you, something so unspeakably true, will you listen? Will you deliver me from the land of the lone? Tonight we sup on sympathy and shame, tonight we learn I was always to blame. Once we choose to play that game you and I know I can never win, because you can never sin. Denied my day in the sun, forever to lurk beyond the horizon, you tease me with your love, dazzling spun. But you forget, I've seen paradise: That hell-hole of wishes, promises, and dreams. So excuse me now. I will break our date. You must dine alone. So no, I need no rescue. I only thought bursting forth from your private Eden, answering my call for help, just maybe, maybe you would see the ugly beauty of things coming to be. But no. Go back to your fine lines and hypnotic geometry. I'll make do with my averages. Having said this, having spoken the unspeakable truth, does that shining guilt inside you make you fear for my benighted soul? Pray not for my epiphany. Pray that I, unlike you, will never be blessed with your perfect serenity.