Trying to Kill M.E.

I used to love the night and now I dread my bed Using all the light is how my head got spent Torturous virus talk to my eyelids, walk in my size nines Is this depression or a lesson from inner pressure pressing? Either way, the fevers it deals me are evil The thing that I love most is trying to kill M.E. I have the queerest feeling of my dearest appearing To be leering from the ether, fear more fever I don't like sleepers, drugs make me sleep Sleep is like death, to do death when you're dead Bridge disappears through fog in my ears For this chronic fatigue, there's no tonic is seems Lucid thinking is loopy to think of on and on weeks The thing that I love most is trying to kill M.E. General health making my mental health break But I'll never let go of what helps me create Nothing to this point but for this love Love, torturous virus get out from my eyelids Just wanna ride out life in the key of C I won't bash the black notes, I won't ask for answers Glance up at the banister The thing that I love most is trying to kill M.E. The only good thing and I should cling to it good Are the sparks of good art that park in the darkness Shaking eyes hate me to write But make me think up quite nice ideas It's like me enemy, telling me forget the pen dwelling The madness and sadness is long But flashes of mastery It seems How many ways will it warm up, 8 months ago fate came To break me in somewhat and rape me on the flames The queerest feeling of my dearest appearing To be leering from the ether, I fear more fever Like the bridge disappearing through fog in my ears There's no tonic it seems for this chronic fatigue I'm happily trading insanity lately For passion, that makes me a man at least, maybe The thing that I love most is trying to kill M.E. The thing that I love most is trying to kill M.E. What was I thinking, who was I then? Duly I tried, truly amen What was I thinking, who was I then? Duly I tried, truly amen Pull some paper out the printer, pick up a pen and pen into the winter The oldest cell in my body's only 10 years old With the smell of the kitchen, I dwell on the kissing of my missus Holding a bowl and reminiscing (I am just a child who got a few years older) Pull some paper out the printer, pick up a pen and pen into the winter