Pity you
Youre telling me youve got a problem
A nervous sort of contraction
A mindless kind of reaction
You never get no satisfaction
Heres to you
I know you really got a problem
A nasty kind of reflection
A dangerous sort of destruction
That makes it difficult
Makes it hard to reach
Takes it all away
From what you had in mind
Yeah yeah yeah
A nervous kind of distraction
A nasty sort of contraction
But theres some big fat point
That you seem to be missing
And its driving you to destruction
But it doesnt seem
To stop you in the least
Or halt this obsession got you
Going on back
Week after week
Day after day
Hour after hour
From where you came
For more of the same

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