Bipolar

I know one goes without an H, that's the style
Thought there's days when I feel like the hun like Attila
When the night dazzles me and derails me
I become the last one, at the line

And my mood oscillates, like a seesaw
I go from being a hurricane to a zen master
Sometimes a volcano with the power of Superman
And then you see, I'm Clark Kent

I see the future and I believe I'm the king of the empire
Until I read what my tomb says in the cemetery
Seriously, if I give off current like an eel
My battery expires and I'm left without an ampere

I can be at the top, bare naked
And my esteemed self-esteem well established
To plummet from that platform
And explode like the bomb that wiped Hiroshima off the map

And I worsen like the weather, changing a coat for a blouse
And I grab the rapid descent on the roller coaster
I can be perfect without excuses
Or the opposite of straight like the hypotenuse

I go down and up
I stop and go
I get up
Bip, bip, bip, bipolar

I go up and down
I go and stop
Then I sink
Bip, bip, bipolar

So don't trust me
I have more taboos than Hindus and Pakistanis
I can, put the dot over the I's
And then end up deceased for skiing without skis

And that, mild are my thought
He who laughs last, thinks slower
I lie, if I seem kind and courteous
I'm untouchable like Eliot Ness

There are days when I'm the opposite and I go with sorrow
To hell in an elevator instead of a stairway to heaven
Robert Plant wouldn't save me, nor Bugs Bunny's luck
I dress like Kant and think like Armani

But my flaws don't make me feel inferior
The effect of sorrows are daggers that afflict me
I see them as marks, vaguely
And more than scars later they seem like wounds

I go down and up
I stop and go
I get up
Bip, bip, bipolar

I go up and down
I go and stop
Then I sink
Bip, bip, bipolar

Down, like an underground boxer
That never got past the first round
But he straightened the bow
And strong like a boa, feels like he won more fights than Rocky Balboa
(You're joking)

Sometimes I feel like a blue prince, I have to admit
Other days not that handsome, like a toad begging for a kiss
And that, a cocktail of oil and water
I look directed by Buñuel or Kurosawa

There are occasions where I answer what I feel
But of those feelings I immediately regret
And then all my responses pile up
And fly in the wind like Dylan's

My days pass by and shoot up my soul
Days of calm and other that beg for a gun
And my karma falls apart, like a zip archive
And then my alarm goes off like beep, beep, beep

I go down and up
I stop and go
I get up
Bip, bip, bipolar

I go up and down
I go and stop
Then I sink
Bip, bip, bipolar