Anxious Impulse Machine

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Father Frogboy

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There's a spectre looming over me
A machine that feeds me nightmares and runs on plutonium
And no matter what I told myself
That those visions weren't real, get a hold of yourself
Its pipes remain attached to me
Relaying catastrophe but when my spirit atrophied
Its mission done, the spectre vanished back to thee

Look back to me, getting up three hours after that ordeal
My memory already fading but the sickness sticks, remaining,
Fragmenting images of what I witnessed
Was I imagining a system, apathy
A machine for ruining the best of times with twisted dreams,
Actually

Suspicious of my ecstasy
Obsessions with the slightest things
The sickness sings
Inside my gut the sickness stings

And to the person who informed me I complain to much
If I say I'm done after this track is that enough
Or will you keep sustaining silence gone five months
Will you keep the walls built up
Do you think I give a f*ck
Friends like you are dime a dozen
So there's at least a hundred-twenty at this wallet killing
Gin swilling club
And at least sixty of them look at me with friendly love
What we had was a connection I could form with anyone
It's just that you were there, yea
I guess we had some fun
But back to me

I'm staring at the ceiling with some girl lying next to me
Ante Meridiem it's three, I try to disappear beneath the sheets
But I'm paralyzed and it catches me
That ratchety sound as it hatches dreams
And there's that sickly, hellish chattering
And then the mental battery
The girl wakes up and then wakes me
Are you all right, are you okay
I say it's fine, it's just a dream
Then we go back to sleep
I won't tell her of the things I've seen
The scenes of endless failure
I won't expose my insecurities when there's no need
I'm just taking my remission with a grain of salt and, hopefully
Nothing will happen to me

But is that healthy
Am I abused by this machine
Does it return sufficiently
And would admitting this help me
When social I think tactically
So, if I say I'm sick, will my friends get sick of me

Suspicious of my ecstasy
Remission into OCD
Familiarly my stomach sinks
Then there's my own mind machine
The one that can't help but think
I feel myself try to sink,
But I'm too light to just disappear into a dream
And so it seems
My only path is one of drink
But back to me
By which I mean I'm staring at the mirror,
And he's standing with his back to me,
The kind of thing that I imagine that I see
Cos it's now 3AM, and it's been months that I can't sleep
Is it the pounding in my heart, or the terror in my dreams
That keeps me lying here imagining a system or a scheme
Imagining that there is a machine to keep me suffering
Unsure if there's an out for what I've been
Cos there's a spectre looming over me
Less mechanical than fluid, but still a machine
And until I learn to break myself from this self prophesising thing
I'll be trapped and made to scream
Without a mouth to make it mean
Just another weary cog in my nightmare machine
Goodnight then machine
As I dare to dream
Of words I can sing

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