Slow Worm

There's a worm in your head
Squirming over on me
Leaves a paper thin scab
And you're laughing

It's too crowded
With the skull cap on. (?)
When you're amplified

And everybody's tired of the noise that you make
And everybody's tired of the voice you're faking
Nobody's counting, cause everybody's fine
And everybody's whistling because everybody's blind

There's a page of your face from the xerox machine
Gray matter, bending, blending
Makes me sleepy when you can't define
How far you're trailing behind

You're always sedated
You're simplified
Picking off the scabs
From the skin of your lies

And nobody's counting, cause everybody's fine
And everybody's buying it cause everybody'd blind