no matter if you're a gal or a fella
a fickle little tickle to your cerebella
do you notice the early signs of decay
over the maddening clicking that never goes away
another rung down the ladder
where all the matter is gray

One can't physically be a traitor
with a pia or dura mater
no is no skin to come into play
there is no danger of going astray
but maybe just a little sadder,
where all the matter is gray

No need to put up a fuss
when engaging the hippocampus
it's only more data, when you stray
only logic, no motives to fillet
a flickering screen, not obscene,
come on, you know what I mean,
it really doesn't matter
where all the matter is gray.

(polychord pattern: Bb A over Dm2 G2)
did the aliens get you with their anal probe
or is that something else there in your frontal lobe
sitting on your ass in a ratty bathrobe
hitting up some sad geezer from across the globe
wit and wisdom suitable for the commode
while your real life connections slowly start to erode
are you the wolf or merely the prey
a harmless little spatter
where all the matter is gray