It got so bad I couldn’t move
Though trashy fiction tries to prove
That there are better things to try
Still I’d have been content to die
The only barrier to this fate
My endless catatonic state
So I prayed to this nameless god
To strike with his divining rod
This is the only thing that works for me
They saved my life with electricity
I found the spark that lay within
And so recovery begin
With 85 Joules to the brain
That I might live and love again
And though my memory is bleached
An empty shell on washed out beach
At least the sun will reach inside
And leave no corner that could hide
Even a shadow of a doubt
To exponentially spread out
And fill the skies with endless black
To take me down, to take me back
Oh Syliva, Oh Hemmingway
I’m sorry, truly, I can’t say
What’s right for you, for me it’s this
And that’s a fact I can’t dismiss
