Braindead from boredom
I’m lead to distraction
Scratching the surface of life…
Boring. Boring. Boring.
Nothing at all stimulating.
My mind is highly intricate and addled with explosives
This stalling planet is too small to contain the universe veering in my sleeves
All I hear from my violin is endless screeching noises
And all silence ever does is draw out the pretentious inside voices
Sitting idly and wasting time on frenzied sharks biting my head
A cup of tea won’t even calm me down as I tediously fill the walls with lead
I need another case or two or three or four right now
Why are murderers so awfully slow like molasses somehow?
The dullness of reality makes my perfect system crash
And can’t even be fixed easily with a nicotine patch
Where’s the fun? Where’s the thrill?
The feeling of not feeling anything but excitement and chills?
The game is afoot, and the madness begins
And yet I’m still sitting here, jaded, forced to count my sins
Boring. Boring. So much weariness, it’s mocking
In this mediocre, mind-numbing planet I’m left staring, left uncaring
Dropped off somewhere in the middle, with a mind so impossibly quick
But all their shaded static eyes ever see is a man so terribly sick
Boring. So boring. Why does it have to be so arid?
Humans with their minds so barely-used, straightforward, and placid
Hanging my head back to the end of another lacklustre colourless day
Maybe tomorrow the criminals will finally come out to play.