There are spines in my brain and they fester
Leaving it swollen and raw
I'm sick like a child molester
Who watches the children seesaw

As acids build up in my mouth now
They spill from the tip of my tongue
All my humor is too lowbrow
And my pitiful songs poorly sung

I live in tornadoes of sorrow
But I refuse any help from the crowd
I'll hope for a better tomorrow
But I won't make my wishes out loud