• Day in Dayout, bored as can be.
    Nothing on the television, as far as I can see.

    Reading a book, sitting on the couch,
    eyelids growing heavy, my shoulders start to slouch.

    I itch my head casually, turning the next page,
    reading words from the book that slowly fade.

    For my attention is elsewhere, I itch my head again,
    wishing it would go away, this itch on my head.

    But still it continues, not to decease,
    when will it stop, please just release.

    I begin to panic, whats wrong with my head?!
    If only this itch would be gone just instead!

    But now it is growing, driving me crazy,
    This itch is making my vision all hazy.

    And no matter my itching, no matter my nails,
    No matter my yanking, all of it fails.

    Not to give up, I continue to try,
    blood mixes with hair, stinging my eye.

    Tugging and plucking, the itch still remains,
    dragging out hair in long bloody strains.

    Through hair and through flesh, and then into bone,
    digging and scraping I let loose a moan,

    And when at last my head is gone,
    a bloody stump will meet the dawn.

    A Headless corpse I have become
    Yet VICTORY!! The itch is done.

    But as I lay there, in a pool of blood,
    The itch returns, like disgusting mud.

    Decapitated, my body gives a twitch...
    D@M IT ALL!!!! D@M THIS ITCH!!!!