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