The dead eyes of a rotting nationGet sedation and medicationFor every kid that can’t sit stillFix him with prescription pillsYou’ve got a problemHere’s your prescriptionSimple solution for complicated afflictionsA facade of happinessThat will sellAnyone we can scapegoat, but ourselvesIf I’m diseased try and sell me a cureAnd I’m sure I am fucked upBut decide what is worseLithium dreams or feeling the hurtSick, tired, panicked, or stressed?Angry, restless, manic, or depressed?…We’ll all be cured