Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc (for Schopenhauer)

Taking naps reminds me a whole lot of time travelling
Every morning groggier than the last
My fragile mind is unravelling
I woke up lost and muddy in the tree farm realm
And I can project myself into scenes I’ve only seen on films
I’m like a toddler
With no sense of object permanence
But I’m abjected
And I’m mighty sure that’s gonna be permanent
I named myself after a fictional character
Which says a lot about my mental health and various barriers
That I’ve constructed
Like a manically depressed Bob the Builder
Attempting to reject my desires
And ask what the fuck do we have Will for
Steve Martin can play the banjo
And there’s a mutant ninja turtle
That lives right under this manhole
Take my ego and begin promptly to dismantle
Till there’s nothing left but a skeleton
Who can’t stay on tempo
Long jogs, fitness clubs
The euphemism treadmill
You wonder if you’re really alive
And I am asking if I am dead still
That line’s gonna scare my dad real bad
That line’s gonna scare my dad real bad
These fallacies are tempting
I wonder if I write Rob another song
Will that add to my redemption
I can’t ride a skate board
But I’ll replace your ball bearings
People in malls think I’m so fucking scary
Straight edge, vegetarian
But I can’t let go of these red herrings
Post hoc ergo propter hoc
And I’m a robot
Who can’t can’t stay on top
And it goes