Rub salt on a little cut
Dissect the black and blue
The comforting spill, I’ve got to kill
Stitch patterns running due
Sore fits are strange, my head deranged
Burst out loop running low
Set an alarm! we’ll chop off the arm
It might just halt the flow
No one can pierce, a fear so fierce
No blaze, no maze or might
Crawling feelings, trusting tales
You are charged to shoot at sight!
Done the genuine greet? repeat, retreat
Divert the muzzle blind
You gentle sane, revolt and refrain
But your Id is not that kind.