Mindless Thought Mechanism

Time to get going
Not with a whimper
Not with a shout
But with a mechanical scream

Now that's what it's all about

Uncountable RPM's
And ludicrous miles per hour
A continuous urine stream
A warm golden shower

Lubrication for the process
A quart of whiskey for the brain
Soothing all the fears
Quelling all the pain

Gears and wheels turning
Out ideas ten a second
Contradicting most things I say
Some vacuous and stillborn
Forgotten along the way

If I had a nickel
For every time I said
If I had a nickel
Fifty cents would be in the jar
In the shadows under my bed

But the jar is only figurative
The only one that i have
Is full of moonshine from my cousin
Slowly making me blind and mad

So the fifty cents rolls around
Unpaid and a debt owed
To my psych the penniless bastard
Which thinks oftenmuch
Of steampunk mechanisms
And ideas both young and old
Written upon the walls of my prison
Whitewashed over by the staff
Over and over again

Bleeding through the layers
A confusing mass of half seen symbols
Pollutes any original thinking
Making it derivative and sad

Unable to make corrections
Sheathed in this straitjacket of faith
It squirts out uncensored
In spurts now and then
Until the staff happens by
And paints over it again