In Prose

Make up a father, rabid animal Head gets louder with Choir of cannibals Five sixths of the questions Who? What? Where? When? How? No one's asking why, only telling that he do it now Can't manage to be fine, but doesn't want to be sad Glad to feel, though, even if they do call him mad What if the feeling goes? What would happen then? I dunno Lay it down in prose And hide it under his bed Call the equalizer, set on medium Can't turn it down End up blind, deaf and dumb Can't manage to be fine, but doesn't want to be sad Glad to feel, though, even if they do call him mad What if the feeling goes? What would happen then? I dunno Lay it down in prose And hide it under his bed