Pastiche

Watch me act in his very way,
Swinging in this off-beat rhythm,
Admitting myself I look just like
I had nothing much to say.
Shimmying away my conscience,
Faking what?s been faked before.
I?m fighting prophetic convulsions
Of the prophecies made up one second ago.
That little pastiche from 1983 couldn?t get much scarier today.
Won?t someone get it out of my head or I will live to relive forever.
A surge of hands below me...
Like waves of ignorance and praise.
Lightnings zeroed on me -
I?m very close to being what they see.
I?m sweating - and the sweat looks real.
I?m shrieking - and it?s how I feel.
I?m frightening - I make everyone squeal.
I?m a brain transvestite, I?m supposed to steal.