I sit as the hours get late Thoughts rule my state Blowing through like a hurricane Torturing me with past pain Playing a sick and twisted game Feeding on my shame But what is this voice That is not of my choice Running the the projector Praying for a protector To free me from this cycle To lead me to a change revival Am I just the observer Or dispensing the torture Listening to the bastardly spokesperson That is a diabolical neurosurgeon Playing with my ego Turning my soul to a ghetto Identifying with the duality That's just my personality I am a product of my memories Trapped in these psychoses Believing the odious melody Telling me i dont need therapy I'm taking my power back Flushing this cognative sack Quiting this mental meth Returning to my breathe Seeing I am whole The union is in control The thinker, the feeler, the experiencer Painful memories turn to a whisper For all of this is symphony of me I'm not no longer the referee For my mind body and spirit Cut the strings of this puppet