My Bones are Showing

I need a fix 'cause I'm going down
Down to the bits that I left uptown
I need a fix cause I'm going down
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun

I really could use a fix. I wonder what that fix could be. Nothing will ever be capable of bringing me pleasure until my brain isn't all jacked up. My fix needs to be that. But it can't, because it won't. Something else needs to happen to my brain...to reverse it...but nothing will. Maybe my fix could be imagining myself back to normal again. Nahh, that doesn't work that just increases my level of despair. Remembering how I was is a punch in the stomach, a bang on the head, a sting from a bee, a bite from a dog. Remembering how I was buries me. I dig my own grave when I think about how I was. To loose ALL my wisdom. To loose ALL my creativity. Both of those entities combined together simultaneously created my character. But I am stripped of all of that. My bones are showing....