Вершы: Gray Matter. Food For Thought. Phobias.

Parents say I waste my days
That I?m no work and only play
Said there's something wrong with my head
But I didn?t listen to a word they said
Went to a shrink for over a year
But I couldn?t tell him of my fear
Fear of love and fear of crime
Fear of drying, fear of time
I?m afraid of getting hurt
And walking through the dirt
I?m afraid of repression
But I always need protection
I?m afraid of model planes
I?m afraid of monthly pains
I?m afraid of pimps and whores
I?m afraid of roger Moore
Afraid of me afraid of you
Afraid of mom and dad too
I?m afraid of fear of fear
I?m afraid of a career
I?m afraid of model planes
I?m afraid of monthly pains
I?m afraid of pimps and whores
I?m afraid of roger Moore