Sometimes I feel so confined
My soul has just become benign
It used to be malignant
Now it spreads to no one . . .
It’s all mine.
Nothing makes it to me
And nothing seems to rhyme
But I’m living the high-life
Living the high-life
In my mind
And in there it’s always on my time
This fun of mine
But at least I have these fantasies
Instead of real life . . .
