Only I would be playing music with Mr. Twitch

Only I would be playing music with Mr. Twitch.
He cannot stop
And neither can I.

I must like to be alone.
I must like to play dead.
The truth of the matter is:
God hates cowards.

Only I would be playing music with Mr. Twitch.
Him speaking to his spasms.
Me spilling myself onto sound.

I hear "hero". Hah!
"Anti-" the more.
The truth is:
I was beginning to like myself.

Only I would be playing music with Mr. Twitch.
We both have an itch.
Except we're not in control.

Am I suppose to like this?
Am I suppose to want this?
Truth is:
I've been waiting too long to be rescued
(and now I've forgotten myself).

Only I would be playing music with Mr. Twitch.
And now he's gone home.
Only I would be playing music with Mr. f*^k technology.
And now I wish I was alone.