It is the habit of the cynical
to believe themselves too smart to be optimistic;

This allows them the privilege of being unhappy,
even when they are right.

You put yourself on high alert
for dangers that could be lurking.
It's in your mind,
there are no lions;
this "mindfulness" isn't working.

You "doomscroll" your days away,
and take a pill to sleep.
No wonder all your dreams
have dystopian themes;
You're counting wolves instead of sheep.

You're isolated, stuck indoors
with no clear end in sight.
The planet is on fire,
yet Humanity's desire
is to help the flames win the fight.

How can you quell the racing thoughts,
the anger, the frustration?
Put down the phone,
just be alone.
Tune in to a different station.

[F#m, A, E, F#m, D, A, E, F#m]

Zombie Heart, why do you keep coming back?
Thought I killed you long ago.
Tried to hide from you undead love attack
Ran as far and fast as I could go.

Left you somewhere I hoped I would forget
Dug a heart-shaped grave and threw you in.
Buried you down so deep I haven't finished yet
An endless war I know I'll never win.

[A, E, F#m, F#m]

Do you think I like breaking you?
My hands are stained red.
Do us both a favor and
This time just stay dead.

You either learn from your mistakes
or become better at making them.

Foul, hideous, and horrid
Unfit for natural light.
An image, none as grisly
As the man named Simon White.

Once his heart was broken
So he kept the pieces in a box.
Tethered safely to his hip
With tight chains and key-less locks.

His mind was wont to wander
To clouds too high and skies too far.
So to keep himself grounded down to earth,
He kept his brain inside a jar.

His teeth would never smile.
Traded some and sold the others
Each to an unfamiliar home
Now all without their brothers.

Oh, his tongue was such a bore!
So he minced it to a paste.
He boiled, baked, and seasoned it
Yet still it had no taste.

He grew tired of his eyes
Looking down and looking back
So he took a brush with inked tip
And painted them pitch black.

The shrieks and wails of the passerby
He could not stand to hear.
So he melted a *** of candles
And stuffed the wax in each ear.

His face had done no wrong
But with fear it one day might,
He took a knife and chopped its nose!
Less from prudence and more from spite...