I'll probably call it sickness,
sickness of the mind,
the wrath of terrible timings,

I freaked out at escapades,
kind of a terrible night,
we are two people,

We don't want each other in our sights.

I am sick of it kindly,
Good sir, I will shapeshift into your complaints
I will be invisible and unsociable and kind of insane.

These pills aren't doing me any good
They are cheap from the local goodwill
They are made of rainbows and **** stained thoughts
And still I swallow them gladly.

I wonder how in a forest fire,
I walk with naked arms,
Take a spin,
give me a pill
Let me fight with your naked guns.