Insane Treatment"A Lament for Departed Friends"By Lloyd Wagner
In the bad days of yore, In this mad day and age, They don't do like before. Where Staff is insane, With their drivel and meds, They'll just fry your brain. As they in fact are, As policemen with guns, Drag you in cuffs to their car. Where they test you for pot; They find none, sedate you, Strap you down to a cot. They ask you, so sweetly. Should you answer with truth, Or perhaps more discreetly? "You're mentally ill. Most likely incurable. Here. Just eat this pill." Spit it under your pillow. They weren't pleased to find it, And they'd like to kill you. They won't let you go. Despite the Reagans and D.A.R.E., You cannot say "no." And you'll freak if you're off it. So you're their patient for life, Their guaranteed profit. Insane treatment costs here; They're way richer than you, So let's learn who's boss, dear. Tuna sandwich and soup. Eat it fast, clean the unit. "Are we ready for group?" To color your feelings, Red's angry; blue's blue "Clean up these orange peelings!" But we mustn't get mad, Or they'll "offer" sedation. There that's not so bad. This criminal place, And in your sweet dreams, They re-examine your case. Your psychiatrist's there. He says you're still crazy Just look at your hair. He writes in your chart. "Tomorrow in group, You can go to K-Mart." That's what they said, If you make none, they're not doctors, If you do, they're not Mad. They say with a smirk, But they won't let you get better, 'Cause then they'd have to work. (You're still too smart in your talk.) "Would you like to be fixed by Electro-shock?" That's all it'll do." Though if you've got a headache or not, They can't even tell you. Their erasing stun-gun, At only "Bad Memories," What if they hit "Fun?" To the electro-shock notion. They increase the pressure: "You're put on restriction." Can't go out with group. "You won't sign the papers? Then stay locked in the coop." Have just tried to cheat 'em. They double your fry-meds See? You really can't beat 'em. "How'd you come to be here?" One girl, seventeen, Got caught drinking beer. All three did agree: "She needs treatment in Chemical Dependency." Wasn't thinking too keen, When she told off a cop, When she was eighteen. Had kidnapped her baby, Cops don't appreciate swearing They determined she's crazy. Down in Mississippi Don't tell a cop off; "You'll regret it. You'll see!" Walk down the hall; Staff's laughing and chatting, They're right on the ball. They don't look at you. Then hanging over the stairway, You see a body, all blue. Feeling totally sick. "Patients back to their rooms! Quick, quick, quick, quick!" Of what you did see, The deceased still has rights to Confi-denti-ali-tee. Won't mention this news; Mad Center's ad money Is too much to lose. And I'm hungry for food, As I spent all my money For gas on the road. Of out-dated bread. It's free from the Staff. "Eat up," they said. for yourself and for me. Fat Staff lady Lisa Is watching TV. Makes an across-the-room dash Amazingly quickly, For the size of that ass. and makes me to dread; She's as mad as a hatter; Her face is beet-red. That it's wrong to feed me. "It's not the purpose of the unit! It's inappropriate! See?" This same bread-hoarding Lisa is Driving a very nice van, That says she's "Pro Jesus." What Jesus would think, If he knew that this Lisa Was claiming a link.) You expect madness from Staff, But it cuts to the bone, When your friends also laugh. But they don't know how. They won't help you run, 'Cause you are crazy, now. So if they visit, they say, "Just stick with the program, And I'll see you someday." But nothing is free. Calls out are collect, To help AT&T. But they won't let you use it. Phone service costs money; They're afraid they might lose it. For Staff it's a bother, To go and find you To talk with your father. As yours has been stolen. You pray if they'd protest, Heads would be rollin'. And basely agree, "Mad Doc is the expert. (Just don't let him treat me.)" It keeps them immune From the restraints and the needles Of a mad therapy room. With two people left dead, Both Mad Doc and the judge say, "He wasn't taking his meds." Will never admit, that their judgement and drugs Were inappropriate. On individual cases. And the small controversy Disappears without traces. Where will they be? In God's Treatment Center, With just you, and me. and drive you insane. Say, "I LOVE YOU BIG BROTHER!" They've just fried your brain.
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Created: February 7, 2001 Last modified: February 7, 2001 |
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