If I had any talent left I don't know what I'd do
bury it beneath the ground or put it all to use

My catatonic tendencies remind me who I am
but seem to hide the qualities that shape my iron hand

I end up giving in to things but just to pass the time
and I've forgotten how to be because I've lost my mind

So this is my predicament, the artist doth confess
that I've created something of a convoluted mess