Slow Worm - Archers of Loaf

Theres a worm in your head,

Squirming over on me.

Leaves a paper thin scab

And youre laughing.

Its too crowded

With the skull cap on.

(?)

When youre amplified.

And everybodys tired of the noise that you make,

And everybodys tired of the voice youre faking.

Nobodys counting, cause everybodys fine.

And everybodys whistling because everybodys blind.

Theres a page of your face from the xerox machine.

Gray matter, bending, blending.

Makes me sleepy when you cant define

How far youre trailing behind.

Youre always sedated.

Youre simplified.

Picking off the scabs

From the skin of your lies.

And nobodys counting, cause everybodys fine.

And everybodys buying it cause everybodyd blind.