From: "Robert Seeberger" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Reply-To: Killer Bs Discussion <brin-l@mccmedia.com>
To: "Killer Bs Discussion" <brin-l@mccmedia.com>
Subject: Re: Hello (hello, hello)
Date: Thu, 9 Mar 2006 04:53:47 -0600
Well, I was talking to a mirror image of what supposedly was to be me;
and
the eyes and the nose and the insignificant clothes supported the
testimony. He said, "You're doing fine, you know.
You've got an okay mind, you know.
And I would hate to see you throw it away.
You'd better hold on.
Hold on. Hold on."
I was telling him I was a bit fatigued about my life, both present and
past;
and when I recalled my thoughts of ending it all with an overdose of
gas, He said, "You're doing fine, you know.
You've got an okay mind, you know.
And I would hate to see you throw it away.
You'd better hold on.
Hold on. Hold on."
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
From early days of infancy, through trembling years of youth,
long murky middle-age and final hours long in the tooth,
he is the hundred names of terror, creature you love the least,
picture his name before you, and exorcise the beast.
He roved up and down through history, spectre with tales to tell,
in the darkness when the campfire's dead to each his private hell.
If you look behind your shoulder as you feel his eyes to feast,
you can witness now the everchanging nature of the beast.
Beastie!
If you wear a warmer sporran you can keep the foe at bay,
you can pop those pills and visit some psychiatrist who'll say,
"there's nothing I can do for you, everywhere's a danger zone,
I'd love to help get rid of it, but I've got one of my own."
Beastie!
There's a beast upon my shoulder, and a fiend upon my back.
Feel his burning breath a heaving, smoke oozing from his stack.
And he moves beneath the covers, or he lies below the bed.
He's the beast upon your shoulder. He's the price upon your head.
He's the lonely fear of dying, and for some, of living too,
he's your private nightmare pricking, he'd just love to turn the screw.
So stand as one defiant yes, and let your voices swell,
stare that beastie in the face and really give him hell.
Beastie!
There's a beast upon my shoulder, and a fiend upon my back.
Feel his burning breath a heaving, smoke oozing from his stack.
And he moves beneath the covers, or he lies below the bed.
He's the beast upon your shoulder. He's the price upon your head.
Look out!
-Twavis
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