From the album Ricochet
This is a song about choosing to keep the thing that's destroying you. Lindsay Jordan knows exactly what sorrow is doing to her but calls it companionship anyway, dresses it up in monster language to avoid saying she's depressed. The horror metaphor lets her claim she's trapped when really she's just refusing to leave.
We don't need anyone, sorrow and me / Knockin' 'em back like there's nowhere to be
She says she doesn't need anyone while immediately personifying sorrow as her drinking buddy. That contradiction is the whole song in two lines.
Took in the monster we dragged from the creek / My abomination, Agony Freak
The possessive 'my' gives it away. She's claiming ownership of the thing supposedly taking her over, treating agony like a pet she dragged home on purpose.
I tried to feed it, but it just wants more / I can't remember who I was before
Feeding a monster is an act of care. She frames this as helplessness but keeps describing herself actively maintaining the relationship, proving sorrow only stays because she keeps it fed.
You should get out while you can, girl / You won't make it out of my world
The whole song has established she's alone with this thing. She's warning someone away from a place she simultaneously calls her world and says nobody can escape. That's not a warning. That's an invitation disguised as concern.
So, twist around me, Agony Freak
Twist is intimate, almost tender. She's asking it to wrap tighter, not begging it to let go. The word 'so' makes it sound like a logical conclusion when it's actually total surrender dressed up as inevitability.
Jordan would probably be surprised to realize this song proves she's choosing to stay. Every monster metaphor is just a way to avoid responsibility for keeping sorrow around. The real horror isn't the Agony Freak. It's knowing you could leave and deciding not to.