Written by Michael Woodhead
Copyright © 1966, 2020
They tell me I'll soon be better
But, I really don't know what's wrong
I've been inside this building for so very long
There are bars on the window
And the door locks on the outside
But, it really doesn't bother me
They tell me I'm sick, you see
But, I don't believe them
After all, I feel quite well
I don't feel sick
But, why do they strap me down when I cry
I heard them talking about me today
They said I was insane
But, that can't be true -- can it?
It seems completely inane to me
It's really funny when I think of it
They've strapped me in again, you see
All I did was start laughing
But, I'll stop pretty soon
Then, maybe I can find something to slash my wrists with...
You know, I'm getting sick of this place
Did you ever feel like that?