A buzzsaw ripping into my head
A megatonne explosion to wake the dead
Oh how I could wish I could rid the boring
Into my skull of my girlfriends' snoring
Across this warm August night
Her nose clamor makes me reach for a light
And look for something to stop the incessance
Anything to help me find a little evanescence
So I get up and camp in the livingroom
I finally fall asleep, but it's spelled my doom
Not half an hour later, she is yelling
And so I return, if only for the quelling
So now it is quiet, she's sleeping on her side
And I'm still awake, but my mind's on low tide
And I wish I could rid the boring
Into my skull of her dogs' snoring.
Seven minutes.
Next word: Cerberus