The world was on fire
No one could save me but you.
Strange what desire will make foolish people do
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you
No, I don't want to fall in love
With you
What a wicked game you play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say
You never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do
To make me dream of you
Disclaimer The
Neurotic One shall use this narcissistic recluse to blow his own trumpet, to
question the parentage of Communists and to blast the world for what it is.
Readers who do not concur, are requested to bend over and kiss his buttocks.
Readers are also strongly advised against side effects of reading Neurotica,
such as strong nausea, splitting headaches, insomnia, visions of Baba Sehgal
chasing you in a thong, suicidal depression, delirium, anti social behaviour,
transformtion into an ugly toad, nightmares about ugly and naked fat men, STDs,
Kafka dreams or brief flashes of intelligence.
If you do feel these side effects, oh well. Sue me.
