Is why the voices in my head all speak with British accents;
Whether Cockney, Scottish, Yorkshire or of any other faction
It seems that there's just something there distinctly Anglo-Saxon.
Or take, instead, this riddle that perhaps you'd like to ponder
Why in and out of mine own mind these voices seem to wander;
At first they're here, and then they're there, and then I hear them all around
And then they go so quiet that I hear nary a single sound.
And sometimes they're not voices, but are visions such as mooses
Colored like those characters from that mind of Dr. Seuss's;
They're purple, yellow, tangerine and every other color
And yet the thoughts I'm thinking couldn't possibly be duller.
But the question that I've always had,
And just now answered, I'd like to add,
Why about MY head these voices gad,
Has an answer that's not all too sad,
And perchance it might just make you glad,
Since the news is not completely bad -
I am clearly merely dearly, sincerely mad, mad, mad, mad, MAD.