why must I suffer through this broken and bleeding heart
that helps you until it hurts me and yet still carries you through
why are you looking to me like i got all the answers
when your skin sores got maggots i'm not the one to blame

i can't see clear enough to make any incissions
but i need this transplant from my defective heart
i can't help you find yourself or help you find your way
i need my own bandages to help me from falling apart

i'm not your padded wall
i'm not your plaster cast
i'm not your silver spoon
i'm not your smokey tube

i'm not your medicine
cause i'm too sick myself