Dan Tindall: Music

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Well I made my way to the doctor (once again)
Said - I have some trouble with my brain
It seems to have been emptied of all thought
Replaced by stupid notions I despise

He said - my only advice is to pull yourself together
Stop being so enchanted by your meaningless existence

So I thanked him
And I paid him
And I walked out in the street
And everything was crazy
And made no sense to me!

In the back room of a basement, by the door
Is the bottle of Chianti I adore
And on the table, by the propane grill
Sits a woman who is permanently ill

In this wretched parlour, it is dark and dank and foul
The murmur of the underclass has turned into a growl

So I take a drink
And I start to think
Of all the folks I'll never meet
And somewhere in the distance
A church bell strikes thirteen

So picture this, and tell me if I'm mad
I made a bonfire of all the stuff I ever had
I burned the very things that made me feel
That this carbon-fibre world is somehow real

The smoke rose to the heavens
The ashes burned like hell
Sulphur, pain and novacaine
Swore everything was well

So I ask you to consider
When you stare into the mirror
That nothing you can see
Is exactly what it seems!