mania;
the monkey on your back
and you've been known to fold
under the weight of much less
than that of a primate.
you coat your thoughts with sugar tablets
and find your piece of mind
in a pharmacist's grin
and an insurance authorization assures
you are at home
in the plaza of the cats
where you belong
in the volley of the mob
your name will be known

mania;
is this your coffin or your house?
the walls have doors,
but you're not getting out.
you wrap your fingers in tv commerce
and sign your checks with a quivering pen
and a parcel delivery arrives at the top of your box
and welcomes you in
to the plaza of the cats
where you belong
through the peephole in your door
the surveillance is on
in the plaza of the cats
where you belong
in the volley of the mob
you name will always be known