I’m strapped into my bed, I’ve got electrodes in my head.
My nerves are really bad, it’s the best time I’ve ever had.
I’m a sick boy and there’s no cure.
I’m a sick boy there should be more.
But I’m happy the way I am, like a sardine in can.
People taking notes, people in white coats.
I see school girls everywhere, short skirts and pig-tailed hair.
But why must I suffer, for being a gym slip lover?