In Therapy

 

There ain’t no guessing why it’s in Harpurhey

Where all the Mams who drag prams are on ESA

And depression clings to all the buildings

And they’re Manchester’s biggest exporter

Where suicidal thoughts seep between the bricks and mortar

And knives on skin is just one of those daily things

And they eat cold paranoia for dinner

That’s where I drag myself to every Wednesday

And the school kids who won’t be told

Cut across the road in front of me

‘Cause they don’t think I have to see ‘em

One, two, three times in my rear view mirror

So I know I’ve not run ‘em over

And in a room so uninspiring I find my eyes glued to the clock

I sit

And I tell him all of my secrets

And I tell him shit I wouldn’t tell my husband

And I’m proper fucking rude to him

‘Cause he challenges everything I know about me

And he challenges the status quo within me

And I don’t know why but it makes me so angry

And I cry

I cry like I can’t when I’m on my own

And I cry like it hurts when I feel all alone

I cry for the scars that line my limbs

And I cry for my failures, my sickness, my sins

But it helps

I don’t know why or how it does

But after I’ve slunk off

And touched up my fucked up eye make up

It kinda feels good

And for a moment it’s OK to be me

And for a moment I see what other people see

And I’ve stopped counting the steps

From the door to my car

‘Cause instead  I kinda skip

And I guess that’s why I stick

In therapy