This headset doesn't fit quite right,
The wire is tangled; the spring's too tight. 

The speaker’s screaming in my right ear,
Making it hard to say what I hear. 

Making it hard to say what I write,
Tying my ears down good and tight. 

Straitjacketed by this little mike,
I know what a schizophrenic’s life is like.

Hearing little voices inside my head,
A little voices repeating what I just said. 

Am I crazy?  My thoughts are about shot.
This little headset’s got my mind in a knot.

This serial killer has got to go,
Become a milquetoast average Joe. 

You could say my head's not screwed on right,
Time for a headset that's not so tight. 

A new point of view that's out of sight. 
Straight from one that's wrapped too tight. 

How can I get a new point of view?
Trade in this headset for an array mike that’s new!


Copyright 2002 © Ronald W. Hull



More Poems

My Place

Read War's End, the Novel