My back is tight, knotted
I'm not entirely sure why
But I would trap a dozen
Eskimos for a massage, honestly

Enter the sad realization that, despite
Bruno's good intentions, he is unable to
Fulfill this request with paws
Oh, but that's alright

It's one of those half-hearted dreams
That drifts along in wispy bits
Every now and again
To whisper and invoke a peace
Within the cataclysm, but don't dare
Turn around, or it will be
Gone

Like the ghostly fingers untying me
One loop at a time because
They've lost the scissors