Day by Day

Good morning. Check your vitals. Get your meds.

No, not you. Go get back in line and wait—

Wait to get your pills and fill your dope heads.

Batter of drugs and plastic’s all you’re fed,

And “Go to sleep” if it starts to sedate.

Good morning. Check your vitals. Get your meds.

If you want out, you’ve got to take your meds.

Show me your mouth, prove the pills that you’ve ate.

Get your fucking pills and fill your dope heads.

Any thought of freedom ends up in dread,

Another code gets called and— Back to a blank slate.

Good morning. Check your vitals. Get your meds.

In my meetings with Him, few words are said,

“Are you still suicidal as of late?”

He gives me pills despite shaking my dope head.

And lately I’m not wishing to be dead,

But, still, they keep me here, a dreadful fate.

Good morning. Check your vitals. Get your meds.

Wait to get your pills and fill your dope heads.