The king of the jungle has frozen his hand on stark antibiotics from the promise land.
Blue and white delusions of the chosen toad are plastered on the billboards that stand near the road.
And everything's a mess, including my head. The fallout from your love has left me long since dead.

Jiminy Cricket and the King and I have been waiting to recover from the lover in the sky.
Traffic jam inclusions are all that I see as I try to understand your eccentricity.
The paper is black. It stains me with ink. I cannot get it off even when I swim in the sink

Oh baby now's the time to jump off the cliff. I've been sleeping by the window and my neck is kind of stiff.
My toes are all hurting and my eyes can't do their job. I feel like I've been smoking and I'm just about to sob.
The girl is outside; beyond the door. I wish that I could hide behind the rug on my floor.

Someone is coming for a movie at ten, knowing that I should be doing something else again.
Knowing that I have been looking for my clasp doesn't make the definition easier to grasp.
I know it's not your fault, that I am such a freak or the women still harassing me that never seems to speak.

This is the feeling when you bring up your lunch, and leave it in ceramic with a fluid filled punch.
I can't be with you 'cause I'm not with myself. I'm searching for my murderer. I think it was an elf.
The holes in the floor; the angst of the glass; the pains and strains, in vain, insane; it all will pass.
It all will pass.