What's wrong with you?

I've got an answer in my head.

What's wrong with you?

The question's long been dead.

What's wrong with you?

My Mother's impetus has bled
From the life she's led
And from the lies they've said.
And now the years ahead are like the years behind:
Colored red by a flimsy mind
And now we'll walk the mall in mini-blinds,
Until the clock on the wall reads "endless time".