Paranoia isn’t pretty,
The bloodshot eyes
And unkempt hair,
With broken nails,
And cap-toothed grins.

Paranoia isn’t pretty,
The furtive glances
And fingers drumming,
With anxious steps,
And nervous tones.

Paranoia isn’t pretty,
The shadows in the corner,
And spy-tapped lines,
With cancerous touches,
And too-false friends.

Paranoia isn’t pretty,
The frightened outbursts
And silent accusations,
With two-toned voices,
And single-self speeches.

Paranoia isn’t pretty
The bloodshot eyes
And unkempt hair,
With broken nails,
And cap-toothed grins.

Paranoia, ah paranoia.