Neurotic

It’s 4am and the cat is dead
A paradox in equinox
Inside my head
It’s raining

I’m losing ground and losing light
Your x-ray vision
Is out of sight
I’m straining

And it’s cold, on the second of July
And it’s cold, every time that I lie
That I lie, That I lie.

A vigil of the princes taking place
But she’s already dead
I’m way to late
It’s painful

Accident, suicide or vanity
Just like Narcissus
It’s profanity
I’m shameful

And it’s cold, on the second of July
And it’s cold every time that I lie
That I lie, That I lie.

I’m neurotic, I’m neurotic.
I’m neurotic, neurotic.