Deconstruction of the Brain Surgeon

I am not Komodo but Komodo is a part of me
Bombard my mind with the image of a lobotomy
Construct my positive mantra from hellish poverty
Prep me for surgery, anesthesia will probably
Knock me into a novelty, phosphorus gas is smoldering
Clouding my mind with thoughts of a better tomorrow
Powder from louder machinery overpowering Eisenhower’s self esteem
From the dream team, welcome to the machine
The scalpel ready to slice, the chances ready to dice
The female ready to pipe, the mind, conscious tonight
My body still gettin’ oxygen, drown in carbon emissions
I hear the doctors askin’ my parents if they want to visit
But there will be no visiting because I’m about to perish
Buried three feet underneath the tariff placed upon my share of
Wicked verses, curse the murderer, perpetrating the liquidation
Raging well within my cerebrum capacitation
Vindication for the stages that my mind’s currently facin’
Like a mix between dementia and a case of basket, face it
Dylan, you will never be this
You will always be in doubt
Sit back and relax so we can rip your frickin’ brains out
Desensitize your nerves, then cut the flow to your arteries
Dylan, we want to help but your body’s starving for knowledge
And not to mention, the stitches will be embedded forever
Never better to let you weather down, erode into nether (Christ)
Vasectomize my genitals so I can bear no children
‘Cause my spawn would be the definition of perfect civilians
I’m the reptilian lyricist with rhythm to rap a text
I’m the king of my prehistoric jungle, Thesaurus
Rex

*Doctor, I swear to God his eyes just flickered.*

“Will you shut up, darling? I’ve already torn his heart out… there ain’t a thing he can do to stay alive.”

My heart may not be beating
But my thoughts have not retreated
Keep the nervous system flowing despite the sangui depleting
I’m feeding the constant demons, screamin’ “WAKE UP”
In my sleep, I want to leave ‘em in a field and bust ‘em open
AR-15
Sixteen shots ring out the barrel
Scary fellow in my pillow
Cus he doesn’t let me rest up when the wind rustles the willow
I’m beginning to gain consciousness
My eyes open then shut
I can hear the doctor screamin’ out
“SEW KOMODO UP!”
But I feel the needle pricking, ticking
Time bomb in my stomach
But I cannot stomach needles so I vomit up my troubles
And the surgeon isn’t happy ‘cause he messed up the procedure
So he bludgeons me until I’m woken fully from my feeble
Position up on the stretcher, I’m wrestling with my tethers
And I have never felt better
I’ve escaped and now I’m chainin’ the doctor up to the bed
I’m slicin’ open his chest with the scalpel used on my head
I’ve desecrated his ribs (that’s disgusting)
I’m gnawing off at the bone and insinuating a blow
To the fragment of skull that’s sticking out of his face
And I know that this flow aficionado
Broke the walls of Jericho
With only declarations blazin’ abundantly in the soul
But I’m lettin’ go of the devil
Wash it down with holy water
I’m the father, son, and holy spirit
Truly incarnate
This earnest, soul searcher turned for the worst
May seem a little urgent
But this is my time
Welcome to the Brain
Surgeon