Trying to Kill M.E.

I used to love the night and now I dread my bed

Using all the light is how my head got spent

Torturous virus talk to my eyelids, walk in my size nines

Is this depression or a lesson from inner pressure pressing?

Either way, the fevers it deals me are evil

The thing that I love most is trying to kill M.E.

I have the queerest feeling of my dearest appearing

To be leering from the ether, fear more fever

I don't like sleepers, drugs make me sleep

Sleep is like death, to do death when you're dead

Bridge disappears through fog in my ears

For this chronic fatigue, there's no tonic is seems

Lucid thinking is loopy to think of on and on weeks

The thing that I love most is trying to kill M.E.

General health making my mental health break

But I'll never let go of what helps me create

Nothing to this point but for this love

Love, torturous virus get out from my eyelids

Just wanna ride out life in the key of C

I won't bash the black notes, I won't ask for answers

Glance up at the banister

The thing that I love most is trying to kill M.E.

The only good thing and I should cling to it good

Are the sparks of good art that park in the darkness

Shaking eyes hate me to write

But make me think up quite nice ideas

It's like me enemy, telling me forget the pen dwelling

The madness and sadness is long

But flashes of mastery

It seems

How many ways will it warm up, 8 months ago fate came

To break me in somewhat and rape me on the flames

The queerest feeling of my dearest appearing

To be leering from the ether, I fear more fever

Like the bridge disappearing through fog in my ears

There's no tonic it seems for this chronic fatigue

I'm happily trading insanity lately

For passion, that makes me a man at least, maybe

The thing that I love most is trying to kill M.E.

The thing that I love most is trying to kill M.E.

What was I thinking, who was I then?

Duly I tried, truly amen

What was I thinking, who was I then?

Duly I tried, truly amen

Pull some paper out the printer, pick up a pen and pen into the winter

The oldest cell in my body's only 10 years old

With the smell of the kitchen, I dwell on the kissing of my missus

Holding a bowl and reminiscing

(I am just a child who got a few years older)

Pull some paper out the printer, pick up a pen and pen into the winter