Those numbers never rang true,
With me, I put it down,
To the gift of telepathy,
Kinda feels like information ferocity,
My mind is a hive to hypocrisy,
Kind feels like ESP.

Turn a page in the book of my company,
Sinking feeling kitchen anatomy,
Sneaking around with my visual capacity,
A bathroom drama looming ahead of me.

Feeling round - pulling down,
Hearing sound, never giving ground,
Like a raven hound, never duty bound,
You'd be in darkness found,
And I'd be in pleasure wound.

Don't tell me darling,
What you want from me,
Surprises supplied by ESP.

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