Hold on,
the brains are blender,
full of alphabet soup.
Spinning clockwise in a counter,
clockwise,
oh.
I put my keys in the fridge,
now I'm standing on the shelf.
He keeps asking about the weather
in July,
but the calendar is melting and I don't know why.
My cat just filed my taxes in a language made of squeaks.
My cat's floor is now on the floor,
it's not a ceiling for the next three weeks.
Is
this a riddle?
Am I the spoon?
Or a little question mark?
Just leave the room.
The map is red and green inside,
so stay inside.
I think I just forgot my old name again.
It's a confusion of a constellation,
a perplexic author,
right?
I'd rather go around with no where to hide.
Yeah, it's a compusilation of my thoughts.
Our thoughts are all in a knot,
and I'm solving a puzzle that I forgot.