Pixillated by decibels
They all got crazy themed
In the synesthesia
They all got clinical
Lycanthropy in the masts
They all got subsumed jejune
In mercenary gloom
They all said terrible things
Screamed them really
In the three forty a m
And it was all because of fear
And burnout and fear of burnout
And it was all in the song
Of her and for her and another
For her and
You changed the names but
Not the ideas; you shaved into
To the face of a late bloomer and said
Hey, at least I still got
My radio
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