automatic_lover

to all who are prescribed

My stomach drops like a sunken ship
Together in a line we stand hip to hip
Praying that it's us he will take
I swallow the pill to stop the shake
He prescribes us our soul our identity our faith
Through is thin lips its our sickness he tastes
He'll feast from our minds from our money our grace
You know he feels sorry for you, you junkie disgrace
As he writes it out on his little pink pad
100mg just because you said you're sad