Panic Run

So you've overdosed on your happy thoughts,

and you've broken the mirror with your angry fist,

Look up and face the man who's lost at sea,

cuz you know you'll soon be next on the list.

Shiny, sharpened knives perfect for cutting through

a single human being's innermost thoughts,

While you easily bring any mind to a close,

as if it were a really bad book you just bought.

Nevermore, becoming who you really are,

being gracious as a host could possibly be,

Until you magically pour that first glass,

for the next patient you are about to see.

Panic run, for a man who is so opinonated,

who sits with the higher class of local heroes,

But tomorrow is a big day for you, sir,

so get some sleep; because everybody knows.