My headphones are turned up high
And I'm trapped in a musical trance.
I'm unseeing, under a spell.
My digits do a little tap dance.
They deem me a daydreamer
As the beats bore into my being.
The rhythm refuses to release me
From this great grasp I'm gladly enduring
Because sometimes surrender is sweeter
Than fruitlessly fighting to be free.
And if your captor can cause such comfort,
Then how is it an actual adversary?