You don't suffer
from depression
until you let it change you

There is no battle to fight
unless you let the enemy in

Nothing is lost
if you hold on

After all
this is your life
you call the shots
call 'em right

The deeper the cuts,
the more they bleed.
The longer the cuts,
the less you'll need.

More medication,
for doctor's greed.

I think that the world is a hospital.
And we are all patients awaiting treatments to achieve the life we want.
But for this treatment, I think I'm the wrong patient.

Some may call me a medical prodigy,
with my fascination of the sciences of man.
And my keen memory of endless medical jargon.

Books upon books, my brain ticks late of night.
Studying every page, text by text.
Everything I need to get someone better.

It feels wonderful to see someone feel better.
But it's as if I'm infected by their misery.
Why am I doing here, anyways?

This world needs good doctors.
I know I can be a great doctor.
I just don't want to.

I literally just had a panic attack.
It was scary.
My heart began malfunctioning in my chest
It was doing 150 beats per minute at best
And all I did was thought of the possibility, that we'll never be.
This is what you do to me.

I spent, half and hour under the shower,
Trying to get my breathing under control.
In... out... in, out and hold..
Holding my breath in hope it would lower my heart rate,
Before it was too late.

I watch my chest flutter like humming bird wings,
My chest, tensed violin strings,
A melody I know too well.
Symphonies and notes that tell,
You are my heaven and my hell.

Will someone please call the doctor?

Won't you figure it out for me?
Isn't that what I'm paying you for?
You say some stuff and write a script,
then you send me out through the door.

You knew my best friend since I was ten.
You knew my old man for me.
You knew the word before it left my mouth,
and then you told me what it means.

I want my day in court
I want my trial:
I want my 'tempt at a fix.
Won't you please just diagnose me or make it up for DSM VI?
Just make it up for DSM VI.

I want a mile, but you give an inch; genetic tendencies.
I've got a void, you've got a cure, but this session's just preliminary.
This session's just preliminary.