I am a wreck but   I’ll turn around.   The attic is flooded   But it’s dry on the ground.   The chords are distended   But the rhythm is sound.   See change in myself but   Still I propound:      Running though the clubs   I thought I controlled myself.   I guess I‘ll turn to something else.   Running though the clubs   I thought I controlled myself.   I guess I‘ll turn to something else.      Pages are turning   Retention is high.   Eyes without baggage   And meat on the thighs.   Libido is resting   But for now I don’t mind   She change in myself but   What about I:      Am running though the clubs   I thought I controlled myself.   I guess I‘ll turn to something else.   Running though the clubs   I thought I controlled myself.   I guess I’m too, too in love with myself.      Running though the clubs   I thought I controlled myself.   I guess I‘ll turn to something else.   Running though the clubs   I thought I controlled myself.   I guess I’m too, too in love with myself.