Silent Saw

My mind's not ready A cerebral stall If my mind's not steady Then I'm pushed through the floor Man, I am writhing My hands on the wall Should I be here fighting Or be shot of it all? If my mind's not ready If it's broiled in salt This cut-off headache Of a silent saw Man, I am writhing My hands on the wall Should I be here fighting Or be shot of it all? I picked you and you waste my time I gotta whole lot of nothing that was not mine I got fixed views, a nascent mind I gotta whole lotta woe, a batshit mind I gotta grip to this wall I'm on I gotta lower down and turn my eye around Even though the will is tired I got that fixed little memory held in stone, and I Man, I am writhing My hands on the wall Should I be here fighting Or be shot of it all?