Made for The Stage.

Give me some medicine, I don’t want it.

It’s scary in here, it’s better I stay out here.

Give me some medicine, I don’t want it

Talking to my mind like, “Who’s team are you on?”

Give me some medicine, how do I take it?

I need to talk to you. Because it feels like I can’t stop living my nightmares while my dreams stay sleep.

Afraid to sleep. You afraid to sleep?

…

Well… That’s awkward.

But my question, who’s team? Cause that was a real question, if not mine, then, I have another question.

Did anybody get me any medicine though? … no?

I don’t get it, they tell you to use your voice, you do, falls on deaf ears. And, Ironically, that’s what I always hear.

Nobody listens and I can’t tune it out. I wonder what makes everybody else so special?

I’m the one with the stage. And I’ve always got an audience of at least one.

I know it’s funny. But this is no laughing matter, I’m standing here telling you the one thing I won’t tell you.

And you won’t even listen, acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about.

Absent-minded? Here take one of mine.

…

Aw.

Now I can see a bit of myself in you.

How about you? What do you see when you look at me?

I’ll wait.