| I’m trying to make up my mind
|
| Madness or cruel-to-be-kind?
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| Your mother was sick or blind
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| When she gave her child away
|
| But what she did
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| She did out of love
|
| She must have meant it
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| As an act of kindness
|
| And having never had a kid myself
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| I cannot understand the pressures
|
| «…you must be sick in the head
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| You need a hospital bed» she said
|
| «Properly fed» she said
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| «Or you’re going to wind up dead»
|
| So you were put
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| In the hands of science
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| Strangers who understood
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| Better than mothers could
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| It was really «for your own good»
|
| See, we find these ways
|
| To justify it all
|
| Are they really working?
|
| I’m trying to make up my mind
|
| I’m trying to make up my mind
|
| It gets harder every time
|
| I see a baby mother
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| Or think about growing up and having kids
|
| Oh God, she must have done it out of love
|
| I must believe it was an act of kindness
|
| I keep imagining the film 'Girl Interrupted'
|
| With less attractive inmates
|
| «All of the things that you feel
|
| They are a fucking disease» they said
|
| «We diagnose it with ease» they said
|
| «There is no hope of a release» they said
|
| So you found yourself
|
| Inside a prison with no escape
|
| Tied to a gurney with thick red tape
|
| Nursing a wound that is mother-shape
|
| «When can I go back home?
|
| I want to make a fucking call
|
| All these pills do is make me sleep…»
|
| Onetwoonetwoonetwo
|
| You wished you could unmake yourself
|
| Become something else
|
| To be something awful
|
| «To be smoke and shadow»
|
| I understand the idea that A.D.D. |
| is an imbalance
|
| 'Depression,' that is an imbalance of chemicals
|
| It makes sense
|
| But couldn’t you argue that everything is?
|
| Joy, fear, anger, sadness?
|
| Can you diagnose love?
|
| Can you diagnose loss?
|
| See, we find this ways
|
| To justify it all
|
| But is it really working? |