Here?s your new drug.
Shoot it in your left eye.
Feel it in your right side.
No, it?s not love.
Though it sets up shop behind your rib cage
building blood clots and black holes.
Like using an axe to pull a sliver from your skin.

And they say this is medicine.
An overdose of oxygen.
A severed head as sedative.
To be at piece would be a sin and surely unamerican.
I?m breaking...

Here?s your new blood.
Transfusion took us all night.
Tell us that you?re alright.
No, it?s not love.
Though it feels like fire inside of your veins,
burning right beneath your wrist.
Begging for a razor?s kiss to free it from your skin.

And they say this is medicine.
An overdose of oxygen.
A severed head as sedative.
To be at piece would be a sin and surely unamerican.
I?m breaking down.

Down.
Down.
Down.
I?m breaking down.
Lift the vile, it?s not medicine.
And my heart fails, time and time again.