I suffer from manic depression.

Sometimes slow turning.

Sometimes obsession.

Thats a quick slow lesson.

In less obvious passion.

In which I fashion

A life of ridiculous…ness.

Quite a mess

But sometimes 

Great success.

But “they” decided

To medicate success 

from my life.

That they labeled strife.

 

So they gave me lithium

And I didn’t like 

Feeling so slow

Also I didn’t like 

Feeling low

But I was

So slow

I didn’t know 

I was low

Quite a blow.

To feel that slow.

 

Sometimes blind

To a kinder mind

Self hatred throws the dice

Towards something

Not so nice.

But it has to be said

Has to be understood

That being high

Is pretty fucking good.

And a source 

Of great levity

It also aids

Creativity.

 

But the powers that be

Suffer a kind of negativity

And wear frown of dismay

when the high comes to play.

If you steal a car 

to drive to New York.

From Croydon.

Or stand naked in the street

to fist fight god bare arsed

and bare knuckled.

Then they seem to think 

Your a little bit buckled.

 

So then they call what you are

“behaving bizarrely in public place”

Again.

And to save you your pain

they lock you up

Again.

But then they still 

are not quite done.

And just to finally ruin the fun.

They give you something new.

Again.

New on the market

this will unspark it. 

And you’ll be normal

And full of refrain.

Just like us! 

Again.