My lips quiver,
To the sound of coercion,
And I need not know anymore than that,
But what would be another version
And why does it make me shiver?
A deep recess of my psyche
Where it all began.
The nurse on the stairs,
I am her number one fan.
Her cheeks as red as flares,
Her stance resembling a noble man,
Who must depart on her bike.
The cogs in my mind are broken,
I am a vegetable according to today's youth.
I needn't ask for a better token
Of good will, than allowing me to use the phone booth.
I want my mummy for love and devotion,
Something she rejected knowing I was a boy.
So I fry my mind in droves,
And in succession I collapse.
No turning back, no relapse.
A permanent state of misery
Coupled with high times,
This glory; so wondrous and rare to me,
That I'm afraid there's no turning back.