| Suffer cerebral
|
| A slave to absurd vexing routine
|
| The chains of dense grey matter
|
| Constrain a rationale
|
| Pleading to be set free
|
| A ritualistic scourge upon the psyche
|
| The superstitions and ticks
|
| An insidious nuisance
|
| A plague of compulsions
|
| That feed on the need for control
|
| My right brain is telling me there’s no salvation
|
| In counting the numbers of steps that I take
|
| Or in blinking at fives at the people I love
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| I’m completely aware of the fact
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| I’m not
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| In control of what happens
|
| But I can’t shake these habits
|
| It’s driving me batshit
|
| Please queue the casket
|
| What keeps me insistent
|
| These ticks keep us safe
|
| Is it some vague solipsistic?
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| Unease in my brain
|
| One that feeds on my logic
|
| Until I just can’t refrain
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| From repeating some task often odd and inane
|
| I’m a slave to these cycles my psyche is sick
|
| When I know it’s nonsensical
|
| Why can’t I quit?
|
| I’m at a loss
|
| The repetition is grinding me down
|
| Appeasing compulsions
|
| Day in and day out such a chore
|
| But if I fail to comply
|
| That incomplete ritual
|
| Gnaws at the back of my mind
|
| Until I’m just beside myself
|
| And it’s impossible
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| To focus on anything else
|
| I try to hide it
|
| Because I’m embarrassed and fear
|
| The disorder could seize all control
|
| Suffer cerebral
|
| A slave to absurd vexing routine
|
| The chains of dense grey matter
|
| Constrain a rationale
|
| Pleading to be set free
|
| A ritualistic scourge upon the psyche
|
| The superstitions and ticks
|
| An insidious nuisance
|
| It feeds on the need for control |