Letra de Discussion Is for the Pigs

I have a block on my brain
With a clock in my mouth
I'm tasting each second
For days I've swallowed the hours
Striking worth
Into the air
With words like arrows
Stuck into my knees
To pin me to the chair
To force me to write
Well I've got a pencil and a thousand thoughts
But my wrists won't move
Why are my thoughts
The flies on a rot
Aloft each other
In persuasive decay?
Their decay is my demise
I control the square
With just enough space
To develop an affliction
They are all dead to me
They are all dead
Oh no!
It's a comforting rape
Unlike any normal respite
And this cannon-style boredom
Is a crippling image
Ready to pop at any moment
Red-face children can't vomit
Insignificantly hopeful
They are pulling on these coiled limbs
They are taught and confined
In this environment
I am my own destruction
Relying so heavily
On every possible sketch
Procrastination
And knowing nothing