Hobson's Choice

[refisher]

A deal that’s been made
Cannot be avoided, voided, or changed
A hand that’s been played
A Royal flush by a Royal Sage
In spite of my fomentation,
And it’s tormenting sensation

A song that’s been sung
No one could ever duplicate its voice
A treaty that’s marked John
The townspeople now ought to rejoice
In spite of my fomentation,
And it’s tormenting sensation

I feel I’ve got no choice
Because I have not got my own voice
It’s yours, is it not, that is ringing through my head
I feel like screaming noise
If just to listen to my own voice
But it’s yours that has tampered mine, now dead

A torture that’s just been
Its existence is insistent upon me
I only seem to bend
There is no misprint that I can see
In spite of my fomentation,
Now I’ve consternation
And it’s tormenting sensation

I feel I’ve got no choice
Because I have not got my own voice
It’s yours, is it not, that is ringing through my head
I feel like screaming noise
If just to listen to my own voice
But it’s yours that has tampered mine, now dead

Are you happy?
Are you satisfied?
I might be now that I can’t die
Do you like that I’m in torment
I might though because the benefit
Outweighs my hell
That’s not to sound
Too pragmatic
But what fell
From holding me down
Gives me room to breathe though, believe me, I’m scared