At eight years old I chose what I was chose to do
And called it destiny
See over the years other sweets went in my mixture
That tasted much better to me
To understand why other options seemed reckless
I had to join the occult
The sigils spilled to show that I was just feckless
In the year I became an adult
No one depraved had walked on your grave
It's just cold at this bus stop
It wasn't a ghost or demonic host
That caused this temprature drop
But the bumps in the night
Still take new shapes in my head
And the light switch
Ends its journey after I'm in bed
As far as I know no telly's tried to kill me
In my house on top of this Native American burial ground
I brought the oars in, relied on a higher power
And I started to drift away
It took 30 trips around the sun to see its light
I just built Rome today
But Germanic pressure won't dispirit me
No stepping on cracks of pre destined tracks
Just walking on up the road
And knocking on wood won't do any good
With words that cannot forebode
But the bumps in the night
Still take new shapes in my head
And the light switch
Ends its journey after I'm in bed
As far as I know no telly's tried to kill me
In my house on top of this Native American burial ground.
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