Psychasthenia — William Fitzsimmons

Could you map this globe With a torment slowly rose To a fear resigned Quiet room I hope I find

Cut me open please Cut me open please

With an alter robe I have stumbled knife to lobe In compulsion drown Counting every phantom found

Cut me open please Cut me open please

With a bridge I've killed I will serotonin fill To a fear resigned Quiet room I hope I find