# Hoya paranoia. Maybe I'm a man who is propelled, Spinning circles of his doom. Or maybe I'm just paranoid, placed by the lord in this room. And a bottle will always be my cover. All of your eyebrows, will you please untie. And if there's any room for a Roma, What else is there left to romanticize? Hoya, hoya, hoya hoya paranoia This is only when I'm drunk, Or do I see things any clearly? It's just like when one is dyslexic. Whatever, I will stay discivil! Hoya hoya hoya hoya paranoia. (chordiearchive.chordie.com)