It's not your imagination
You've got no room to breathe
It's not your imagination
You've got no where to be
It's all turning into nothing
You're hurting everywhere
Takes all your concentration
Just tearing out your hair
Tell your ma
Get your dad
I'm turning on (& on)
Feel what you know
Know what you feel
You're stealing my show
You know what I mean
Tell your ma
Get your dad
Don't you know what's going down?
Been overloading all year round
Round, round
It's not my imagination
I've got nothing to eat
It's not my imagination
I'm skinning up to sleep
And it's not enough
Why's it so rough
All these strange conversations
We still ain't "Let it be"
Tell your ma
Get your dad
I'm turning on & on & on & on
& on & on & on
& off