If my brain and heart could both shut up that'd be nice Or even better if an inventor could create a device That could remove these ticks and overactive nerves That manifest themselves as habits it doesn't take an idiot to observe I don't know what purpose they serve But it's eating my time and life up like an hors d'oeuvre Whether nervous or in habit, I feel and look like a posessed rabbit, Rabid with energy that must be expended A toap on a desk, a scratch to my face or a muscle that must straighten and then be bent Again and again. I'm sick of this problem but it shall not win!