Intended in the form of a song…
Out, out of, in of my head,
Wounded and brutally near dead.
Cerebellum, tell ’em it’s my mind
On fire, and the smoke’s making me blind.
Sara, Sara Bella, cerebellum.
Well, tell ’em it’s not me, tell ’em.
“Bellum” is dead language for war,
And I’m out, out of, in of my head and sore.
The only allies I have are my earbuds.
Kick drums inside the cerebellum like a drug.
We all become a soldier on his final bed,
But don’t give up until it’s out, out of your head.
Spin tables and stretched vocals –
It’s all the same to foreigners and locals.
I plug in, turn up, swipe left.
Getting louder, change in the clef.
That’s what this is coming to:
There’s a war inside, your mind versus you.
Cross into the enemy territory and play that song,
Play for the peace of mind, against what you know is wrong.
It’s named after the dead word
Because the fatal fate of you is blurred.
Constant conflicts crashing ashore
The beaches of your lost core.
Bring in the drummer boy,
The mind is rebellious with ploy.