where did you get your outfit
where did you learn to speak so clearly, doll?
a conversation, epileptic, overstuffed and small.

a simple diagnosis: benignly insane
my little screech owl, your heavy words
alleviate your brain

well you could fool me
but then again I've come to
rue this strange acquaintance with you

the words come trickling out like a faucet

so let's be beautiful
what's your scene, are you for real?
you must be someone else
you must have something that I can steal

and you could fool me...

my impressions tend to wander
i don't mean to judge
ignore me, I have not slept you see
i'm inept at this kind of thing

and yet it keeps going

the glow of a psychiatric hum
fills the room and another one says,
excuse me, sir.
you're boring me to tears