For some reason I rewrote the lyrics to "Lonely Cheese." Tom's are much better.

Lonely Me

Worthless, lament my own life.
It's not that I'd ever fight back.

Sometimes I find a modicum
of strength and will, and yet I feel

I wish I had the capacity
to stand up tall; to ignore the falls.
I'd have a philanthropical attitude to all
The only thing stopping me is my own internal hatred.

I can't let go of these psychopathic thoughts
they tear at me. I can't see with blind, blood-red eyes.
Wake up, sleep deprived, crying in my head,
"Yes sir. No sir. Please beat me 'til I'm dead."
Stygian mind, desolate; no response.
Fear coagulates, spews from my eyes.
My stench offends their pedicured lives.
"It was a dream. It is a dream? Where am I."

Nietzsche was lying: good and bad
search for truth; insanity.
It is inside us and all around
but still I find from time to time