• I want to slay that fly
    The one in the back of my mind behind
    Where all of my thoughts spin
    I can't see him- I know he's there on a stack
    Of memories I push away so repulsive
    I know he thinks my life is boring

    I think his life is boring
    Feeding on unwanted memories unable to fly
    Yet he's not real but this crime is repulsive
    He's imaginary- he's real- his wings tied behind
    His body- he breaths poison like smoke from a stack
    Soon surround my mind with scratchy yarn- not silk- which he will spin

    Why such a pretty tree an Aspen
    What is that?- looking at it is boring?
    Let's climb then- lets haul wood, make a stack
    And build a tree fort- how do we get it up there?- i wish we could fly
    Little brother- you go up first- I will pile wood behind
    The tree- little brother- don't fall- why this tree is repulsive!

    Little brother don't die- don't be so repulsive
    I should have gone first- why did I let my mouth spin
    On about how I was afraid of heights- and bringing wood behind
    The tree was more important- it was actually boring
    You should have defied me and kicked over my perfect wood stack

    I want to kill it now with a stack
    Of old newspapers, its digging into my repulsive
    Thoughts and memories, this awful creature- this damn fly
    I want to smash my to a wall or spin
    Around until it dies and my life is back to boring
    Instead your buzzing voice gets louder- always from behind

    Little do I know, the fly, is me behind
    My own eyes, sit no stack-after-stack
    Of corrupted memories, but truth of my life, far from boring