I hear that there is color on the wall where your pictures hang,
But all that I can ever see are the crooked frames.
My fingers always reach to nudge them straight
With panic on my face.
It's fucking 10 degrees stray...

But I can be just who you'd like me to be
When I'm at the pharmacy.
All the pills I can eat and colors I've never seen.
This place is a dream, it's like they made it all for me.

Over the counter, now I'm in.
I'm in over my head.
I think I made a new friend right here in my bed.
I guess that I am as crooked as any of your pictures are set.

But I can't afford all of these copays and fees.
Your insurance premiums aren't cheap.
It's strange to think I'd stand on my own feet.
Sample packs only last for so long: just enough to want more when they're gone.
Don't they make anything for when there's nothing wrong?