Slow rains, but the days working,
No pain, and the god's burning,
You tell me my taxes don't matter, when the game's spooky?'
I said my brain hurts, but no movies,
So meet me at the drop back, last gulp,
A glass of your white juice, with no pulp
but when the robots start beeping, light switch, up, down, backward,
it doesn't even count when the wires in your head spark.