|
There's a spectre in the corner of an illustrated page |
|
And a lonesome muted stripling with a rapt remedial gaze |
|
The poverty of his language and the wealth of his emotion |
|
Bring him endless murky musings and unexpected frustration |
|
Angst and madness weave the fabric of his life |
|
Tomorrow might be better but right now it feels like |
|
There's a panther, wild and proud behind the doors of a redolent cage |
|
And an undeveloped intellect filled with impotent and static rage |
|
And don't think you're exempt if you earn a good weekly wage |
|
Just 'cause your neighbor's going crazy and insanity's contagious |
|
I know there's so much you want to say |
|
But your tongue gets in the way and sometimes it feels like |
|
[Incomprehensible] |
|
I know there's so much you want to say |
|
And the tumbrel of your mind gets in the way |
|
It's the same for everybody to degrees |
|
We all get that foggy freeze and sometimes it feels like |
