I bear a hole inside my chest.
It's shaped quite like a wicked crest.
Its content in a haste was taken.
I wish indeed I could awaken
from this hellish nightmare fast,
the ghosts that haunt me from my past.

So hold me tight and stroke my head.
Lay me to rest, pronounce me dead.
Shove me away like someone bad.
Of all the things that I have had
the good, the ugly, merry, sad,
the only thing that makes me mad:

Don't ever lie to me.

I do not care for your smartassery.
I do not care for your life's mastery.
I do not care for your nitty-gritty,
for your painted smiles or arcane pity.
I've seen them all and they're not real.
There's no esteem for how I feel.

But heed my words you foolish flock.
They might come to you as a shock.
Could I repent and turn the clock,
think with my brain and not my cock,
act like a nerd and not a jock,
and hear the blues and not the rock,

I'd do it all again.