… that I am paranoid, considering;
I leave an empty road for my garage only to find the same road crowded when I re-enter with my car and get stuck in traffic for hours and hours,
the underground (or subway if you prefer) works flawlessly week after week until I dare a ride, and get stuck for hours and hours,
of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine – that is, into the same gin join I’d walked into a half hour earlier – and throws up on my shoes, leaving me at the cleaners on a Friday night for hours and hours.
Someone’s out to get me, hear me, someone’s out to get me.