the music was playing so lovely then it found a scratch. found a scratch. found a scratch.
and when it was so lovely
    that music in my head
the wild din, swoosh round about from being a kid
and then, the record found a scratch. a scratch. a scratch.

mom's song she sang to me in her arms was beautiful dreamer. beautiful dreamer.
  scraaaaaaatch.
the song became out of key.
lullaby baby, gonna make you cry. here's auntie schizophrenia.
    we will welcome her into our song, too.
auntie schizie sounds like the scraaaaaaaaatch.
     the scratch in my young mind. in my mind.

i'm bloated with memories.
  words said,
     mistakes made,
wrong choices.
can't dance no more you see: the record is scratched.

no daddy don't look. i'll hide away. hide away.
towels under the door. covered in clothes. shower in fear.
the record scratch again. the record scratch again.
the music once came from riding in his wheelbarrow. carefree. music.
   become a teen and the record scratched.

i dreamed i held August in my arms.
Held her tight and cried into her thick black hair. i held her so tight.
  i miss you.
the record scratched.
it was music once. i thought it would always be there.
   but the record once again scratched.

so now the pills make music. like angels in my brain.
i dreamed God allowed me to hear His Holy choir.
Sounds like nothing else. Music. No scratches anymore. The music is inside.
I wish He'd pluck me out, but He will not.
   He doesn't love me enough to take me in time. and so, the record will scratch.

these pills in my head right now and music again.
    sweet.
  harmony.
       light.
  float.
yesterday they made me shake, sweat, fight my sleep.
he held my shaking body. unsure. he can't know.
  he wants to fix it.
  i keep it hidden.
it will scratch his record and end his music too.

pluck pluck scratch scratch.
the music was playing so lovely then it found a scratch.
found a scratch.
   found a scratch.