RIC RIC RITCHETY RIC RIC

The final pieces fit
Into the diabolic jigsaw,
The fag the drink the shit
The ordinary fact,

The woman and the pet
And the concept of the problem
Now everything is set
For a frightful final act.

Music is resolved
Into the one eternal jingle
As reality is freed
From the shackles of belief.

The thinkable is split
Into its logical components
And an absolute confusion
Which proffers no relief.

Fearing what I am
And being what I fear
How can I stop fearing
When my freedom is complete?

A riddle looms which I can't guess
A conundrum which I confess
Is dragging me in terror
To unthinkable defeat.