Mental Ward

They tell me I'm mentally ill,
It's either the needle or the pill,
It seems clear now the window sill,
As I try to keep my body still.

They fight with fascist words
Gainst drugs which they give out,
Then turn and stand in corridors,
To keep us in, to keep them out.

A sanitised waiting room for death,
We overdid the crystal meth,
So now they teach us how to speak,
Put your hand up to take a leak.

It's a need for structure, routines,
A few basic motor skills remain,
Failed actors, drama queens,
Left half their brain in a nightclub in Spain.

All laying massive stools,
A place for clowns and fools,
The sensitive and the insane,
All playing the same headgame.