Why do I let you mess with my head?
I’m always laying here clueless in bed.
Trying to think of things I can shred like Zed,
But we know it’s fiction,
That Pulp said he’s dead.
Maybe I should chill,
Pop another med,
But now I’m letting something else put me back in my head.
I’m stranded, lonely, I only know to put paper to lead.
To sum it up,
You ****** me,
Nuff said.