What's your problem?
What's mine?
What's your problem?
You have none
So I'll make something of it.

I need an argument
I need an outlet
For all this tension
And anxiety
And tension

Do you know anything?
Only a couple of people are anything
But indifferent
To me
So what makes you so different,

I've said all I have to say
So I'll say a little more

What do you want of me?
Some hideous replica
Of a comrade
Someone to hold your jacket
Hold your drink
Writhe on the floor
To the beat of the snare

I'm never doing that again
Or not until tomorrow

You thought it would be a wonderful idea
To calm me down:
Didn't want to try to do that
Because calm is everything I cannot stand
Got to have a little twitch now and again
And again
And again
And all the time

And Stalin
And Pol Pot
Don't mean a thing
When you're burning up
And you want to love
And yet you want to suffocate
And awfully painfully

I count down from ten
And it doesn't help anything
So I count to twenty-five
And I forget why I was angry
It's a real problem at the minute
Because I can't relax:
Some kind of fragmented diatribe
Is only half as much fun
As a full blown suicide attempt

And a freshly written song
Is only beautiful
To the writer
Or the artist
Or the hopeless fool
Or what you will

I have nothing left to give
Except some bile
Directed at missed opportunities
And some unbearable sadness
But I cannot cry
So I will write
Late into the night
Like I always do
And will I feel a little better by sunrise?

Somehow I doubt it.

Redeem me.
I am worth so little
But it's you.
Yes, it's you.
You do this to me
And I think I am in love.