Coming back to this after 3 or so years. The last verse is great. There are a lot of things I disagree with, like the painting of therapy in a bad light, but what do I know, I do DBT not CBT. I'm sure most of this comes from personal experience in some way, shape, or form. You made this song a little more than five years ago, I'm curious if your opinion's changed :0? The final verse is accurate beyond words. My angst and desire to not be alive should not take away my rights and lock me in a building with psychos. Every night you stare up at the ceiling saying I just want to go home. It's more of a punishment than help. I find myself not going through with attempts because I have the fear that if I fail, I'll be forced into another horrible week Three Rivers.

reminds me of teeth by cage the elephant which makes me wonder if the elephant lyrics are a reference to it

big up the riots.

Take Five playing on the loudspeaker 
as I ponder why I’m the only one 
pressing five for the elevator.
Second floor. Stop. Get off. 
Get back to your job. Don't stand still for too long. 
Third floor. Stop. Drop like flies.
Still I'm the only one tapping to the 5/4 time. 
Fourth floor. Stop. All clear as always.
The healthy don’t come near these hallways. 
Fall in for your assessment.
Lying on forms to make it seem less depressin’.
Question: if I’m this deluded, 
shouldn’t every devout Christian be here confessin’?
Shouldn’t my recognition of Dave Brubeck 
rule me exempt from the spectrum?
The system.
Caught between cognitive behavioural therapy 
and comfortable cognitive dissonance.
Book cover judging competition.
Diagnosis from the second they let you in.
Since when was being an individual 
a reason to be taking medicine?
Backwards how I’m paying for you to listen.
You should be paying me. I’m the musician.

I’m sick.
Sick of it.
Psychoanalyze me. 
Take a seat anywhere you’d like.

Smile for the selfie with the student in the elephant suit.
Elephants have evolved to have hands 
and pass out pamphlets on college campuses.
This just in: Wrist slits are now fashionable.
Suicide hotline song on the radio.
Call now and have your whole life saved for you.
Another flash in the pan trend 
to whip through susceptible youth.
You wish that song was about you.
Book an appointment 
to vomit your suburban sadness at a doctor.
Music to your own ears. Feel like you matter. 
Schedule a follow-up.
The goal of the appointment should be 
to get you to not schedule a follow-up.
Let’s talk about the elephant in the room.
Let’s talk about the even bigger invisible elephant 
swallowing up the both of you.
If I tell a depressed person to get over it, it’s rude.
But when all’s said and done, it’s the one thing you need to do.

Jolted awake by a scream late at night.
New arrival. Strapped to a gurney like you were 
except she’s the reason why we tie your arms down.
Forty something, hoodie and boxers, 
pacing around the unit. Mumbling to his schizophrenia 
about how he doesn’t belong here.
Emergency lock the doors at lunchtime.
The man who made so much progress in group 
is now assaulting one of the nurses. 
Thinking maybe my high school teen angst 
isn’t a valid enough justification for us to be sharing a bedroom.
Quit pulling the mental health card and suck it up.
I’m not crazy.
I just think I have a future being an artist.

Locked in.
They don’t let you out ‘cause you might escape.

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Leech Speech

Leech Speech

sadboykj

finch

sidewalk boy