Guerilla Therapy Songtext
von Paper/Boy

You only seem to speak
In a form of calculative data
I don′t wanna be human
Personality's built in Strata
You take pleasure from the fall of a once revered hero
I take pleasure from the meat of your loins

She′s trying to crawl inside of me
It's just a little session of guerilla therapy

You can keep on talking
To all the migraines in my head
I'll just keep on sleeping
With a brand new therapist instead


Therapy (Help me!)
Therapy, help me to talk

I glimpsed you gazing at the moon,
Imagining our maker
My poetry turns you on
My only begotten saviour
You fake pleasure in the photos that your boyfriend stole from you
I fake pleasure from the meat of your brain

I wanna be cool
I gotta be cool

I hate all this guerilla therapy,
A cliched word to describe it would be crazy
They try to open my mind
Where is my mind?
And they tell me to talk!