It's global,
it's gotta be.
A prefrontal  lobotomy,
all I can see is electric,
eclectic tastes, wasting away in the urgency of  this ****** surgery.

All that I am is s.p.a.m.
Superficially
possibly
a
man.

Send in the volts and let me drive,
but something tells me, that in coasting I'm not really alive.
more electricity,pity the grid under which I have hid and played dice with the demons,inoculating myself against the woes of this world,
it's all global.

Tear drops like rain and in comatose again I throw a double four,
Eight like the eight ball and rolling as I fall under the knife.
Life,
give me a break.
You take what I ain't got and that's not a big deal,but get real,what I ain't got is all I have got and you still take the lot.
Send in the amps',
let me curl up in the cramps of electric,slick on the oil,put my brains on to boil,let me forget all I know and let's get on with the show.

In the surge of brain blitz when my head's blown to bits and they start to remold me,fold up my history and remake my memory,
all I can see is electric.