Damn the inner critic I have living in my head
He smokes a cigarette and he wishes we were dead
He shouts above the static, ripping us to shreds
Drowning us in sarcasm and sharp derisive dread
Damn my inner critic! I believe in what he says
Worthless: every thought with every tear I've ever bled
My mirror has his eyes; the skeptic standing in my stead
Thin skin hung on bones toss restless bruising in my bed
I handed him a razor and he hung us by a thread
Breakdown in the nervous train wreck running on a tread
Damn this sick obsession and this masochistic bent, and
The gutter of my mind where my parasite was bred
I wish I did not love him. I would kill my twin insect
Too late; I put on silence and hope no one can detect
The thrice-damned inner critic behind my sneers and cigarettes
