The machine within me
Is going to be the death of me
Because not only has it discovered its beat
I ponder on whether it can contain the heat
The electricity burns through my feet
A feeling i do anything but seek
Then my brain would click
And my intestinal container shouts audibly "Sick!"
My palms get sweaty
And that's when i know i'm not ready.
Then i walk away
Hoping that there will come a day
When i'll be able to say,
Without the slightest sway
The words stuck im my throat today
