There is no hole in the roof above my head
None of the windows of my home are broken out
It's a rare day when I actually have anything go wrong
Or have anything to complain about
And yet I can't shake this sense of dread
This feeling that I need to be careful wherever I tread
It has me jumping at the slightest odd sound
And checking under my bed
I don't know how much more of this I can stand
My nerves are on edge and my hair is on end
Is it my imagination? Am I losing my grip?
Am I getting paranoid, am I going around the bend?
Or was it the cheesecake I ate just before turning in?