Oh, my mind, my mind
how does this gimmick go?
I used to think that I could change
how this old river flows
and I, oh I
don’t know this story’s end
but you and I both know that we
must always remain friends
but you, you old rhythmic clock
you say the same things everyday
like a metrical child’s display
if only you’d just stop, and hey—
see things in more than grey
oh you, oh you
you silly wind-up doll
your voice to me, like many things
is like sour alcohol
just shut your mouth
and do not mince your words
we must abide by the script
like obedient lovebirds
but I — I’m a hypocrite, I see
I mince my words and break my bones
by playing with dead sticks and stones
and I can see in mute grey tones
singing broken harmonies alone
these lies, oh lies, make up my gleaming throne
Oh, my heart, my heart
I have too many holes
I sew them up with insults and
my many many roles
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