Something's stuck inside our head.
The monstrous beast we fed,
it's melody dead.
This thing we led, 'til it's feet turned red
to the bed that laid ahead.
The bed inside our head.
This beast feasts 'til we take it east,
or so I'm told at least.
To a park of riches, greed, and pride,
where every monster gets a ride,
and all of us can only hide,
cowering to either side
of the eyes
of the beast.
But if we best the monster's jest;
fool the pest and take it west,
to where a pure but unseen chest
will have us blessed and dispossessed.
Only then will we pass the test
and finally put the thing to rest.
We must be wary of where we tread,
for something's stuck inside our head.
