Sometimes I wonder if I should be medicated
If I would feel better just slightly sedated
A feeling comes so fast and I cannot control it
I'm on fire, but I'm trying not to show it
As it picks me up, puts me down
It picks me up, puts me down
Picks me up, puts me down
A hundred times a day (…)
I'm always running from something
I push it back, but it keeps on coming
And being clever never got me very far
Because it's all in my head
And "You're too sensitive", they said
I said, "Okay, but let's discuss this at the hospital" (…)
Is this how it is?
Is this how it's always been?
To exist in the face of suffering and death
And somehow still keep singing
