I own a walk in clinic
where all the drugs are sweet
labeled without mercy
and thrown into the streets
a golden pill of solitude
amongst the anger in your head
it will call with all conviction
from the table near your bed
and break the sexual tension
like a hammer or a song
leaving tiny pieces everywhere
as the whole is nearly gone
I own a walk in clinic
the doctors are assured
that sickness is a untreatable
but troubled visions are all cured
you're sure looking very frail
with your hands about your waist
this church will take you in my girl
for a simple little taste
it'll wrap up your emotions
and cast away your cloths
it has known the way inside you
from the moment that you chose
To kneel before a bulb
shining light into your skin
drawing lines around your tumors
growing flowers from your sins
And the pill is running madly
through your papers and your bills
it has come to take your signature
as it wrestles with your will
From the counter top it swears
It has never been so proud
as when it choked you up with opium
and you laughed up from the ground
at every shifting crack of light
every groan of wind
it was better when the ally way
before your eyes, began to bend
I own a walk in clinic
the chairs are breaking down
amidst the fury of your sitting
And the absence of your frown