Fat monkey, cheeky monkey.
You’re so funny. Sat there evolving, resolve dissolving.
Dealing with big, scary feelings that make you feel like bolting.
Have you straight up flee, running like hell for the trees.
Like you’re fighting a disease cos your mind’s a maelstrom.
And right now… you’re about to fail, son.
Cos your brain’s a storm of conflict as blood vessels constrict and you deal with these thoughts.
Fight the cause.
Embrace them or drown and get sucked under by unrelenting force.
But be mindful of the way you retrain your brain, naively thinking there’s a get-out clause.
How can you have such little control?
You need to breathe.
Uneasy feelings have you trapped in a bitter hole.
Maybe that’s their goal?
And anyway, why is it you and them?
You’re on the same team, right?
Kindred spirits, brethren.
Least, that’s the theory.
But paper versus practice is incomparable.
A poor man’s test with too many variables.
So you muddle along, saddled with this burden you can’t sell for a song.
Why is your mind so dark? Every thought so wrong.
Maybe you should smoke more and start hittin’ the bong.
Til blue smoke chokes the trees as it floats through jungle leaves before long.
But kicking back like this leaves you open to predators.
Face facts, you’re too wasted to cover your back.
Odds are you’re due a visit from a morbid messenger.
But there’s a glint in your eye, for now isn’t your time.
You’re still evolving and jungle law dictates there’s no room for folding.
Soon you’ll emerge in the morning mists, sun-kissed like a beast from the chiller.
Skin ice cold you’ve clearly evolved.
You’re now a stone-cold silver-backed mountain gorilla.
With feelings firmly faced and abated, now you’re armour plated.
The jungle holds no drama, you’ve fed the flames that bubble in your brain, you’re sated.
You’re monkey version 2.0.
Cheeky, carefree and elated.