all i've got isn't (real?)
futile attempts to draw a shape you can understand
confused stutters and stammers into the dark night
by this point i don't know if i can
tell the difference between wrong and right

on a minute of slight meltdown
can't see too clearly through the smoke
is that wrong, such a twisted frown
i already said, don't ask me anymore
because i don't know. i just don't know.

late nights waiting on hospital beds
i think my eyes are open but what can i see?
weekly rounds taking it in, running from them
nobody to stop me, don't shoot a girl
who's already disintegrating, decomposing
it's futile.

a drip of this and that, things feel better
everything's heavy,
everything's light as a feather
an IV, back on the tables, what now?
guess i should lean back,
let it rest now.