Inside of my head
Where Doubt turns to dread
Where the spiders do crawl
around my brain they thread
Their seeds of desire
An infinite fire
Like Orpheus' song
Plucked out on a lyre

When it's my own fear
Dark figures appear
As it hits twenty one  
closing in at the rear
And it's really not fair
That I still have to care
When the trust that I had
Seems so dead in the air

But then on top of that *****
Is a small glint of hope
When the early set suns
Through my telescope
And often I find
My own ****** up kind
In the warm solstice air    
Trapped dead in my mind