Help
Help, I've lost my voice.
Someone has taken it from me.
Who? Oh, a man with a warm smile
And a lab coat,
Who said he only wanted to take care of me.
Help, I've lost my voice.
I know who's taken it, but I cannot tell you.
I have lost the capability to.
Because of him, the man who will never be charged or changed.
Every day, I can feel myself becoming smaller, smaller,
More nothing than I was the day before.
But the man who did it, oh,
He lives his days out conscience free,
In a mansion,
As he sits upon his throne of bone and ashes.
Once I writhed with the others,
I struggled,
I cried,
Then he snuffed us all into silence,
Muffling us and tying us with medicatory rags,
Until he could hear the screams no more.
Of course, he still adores that metallic scent on currency;
The iron in our blood only accents it.
I bleed silently for him,
But for him I cannot speak.
I am his undesirable truth.
