The lunatic is in my room,
I never thought he’d find me so soon

The lunatic is in my chair,
Running his fingers through my hair

The lunatic has slept in my bed,
If only I could remember what he said

The lunatic is watching my TV,
His hand resting on my knee

The lunatic is wearing my clothes,
What is it he thinks he knows?

The lunatic is using my pen,
He’s toying with me again

The lunatic is trying to make me cry,
Showing me he’s no longer afraid to die

– 2 January 1993 / Gießen, Germany

Written 24 years ago after listening to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall one too many times.