Monday the First

Get rid of the riddles that I ride.

In the storm,
there's a brain,
there's a sword,

it's not the rain,

nor the bolts.

I know my chain, it's my fault.

I had forgotten all about the world.

Can you hear me?
Are you in my mind?
Can you see it?
Sorry, I'm tired of mine.

Lame flames engulfing a strong light,
thousand animals are howling tonight.

The wool, the cotton,
the nails, the nuts,

take a photo
of my brilliant guts.

I hate what I hate,

a man has to do
what
a man has to do,

now for me, it's not time to be late,

I'm saying goodbye,

goodbye,

goodbye,

sorry about that, babe.