pure real love let me shoot it in ya'!
now i got that feeling i forgot what i was going to say
now i got that feeling i forgot what i was going to write
i have become socially inhibited
the simple smiles Are all wrong
got to look out for the false song
just as my rhyme strained to rhyme

pure real love let me shoot it in ya'!
now i got a look at your shirt
now i got hurt
on a butterfly
on your thigh
fly high
good bye
and all that good stuff
i have fucking become comfortably unsad
i have become comfortable buried it all in freud's fifth nose

and what happened to me listening to phish ninth cube
never happened
as gilmour tears it up at the end of
comfortably numb.