inertia

 

paint a picture of this    emotionally squalid     got the fear on now     something chronic     but I have music inside me      so I’m not that far gone      not a damp eye in the house     must be the season of cynics    I’m too tired to make adjustments this late in the deal

lately, I’m riddled with doubt     and what if it’s bad?     but what if it’s good?   but what if it’s bad?     and what if they laugh?     so what if they do?    it’s the bloody psychogenesis     of crippling inertia      my head is black with trouble      and I’m weary of the conflict