The changing of the seasons
Affects my fickle mood
I'm running out of reasons
To drink water or eat food
I'll just ignore the demons
With the screen to witch I'm glued
There is no hope nor beacon
Just suffering to be viewed
After my soul's been beaten
Dripping blood and black and blue
No answers from the deacon
No solution from the pews
No serotonin secretion
Caused by that ****** Mary shrew
So I wait for the completion
Of my spring and winter blues.