I got reasons to live,
I got stories to give
Everyday I see his face, a face without a human trace
A quite obscure and honored man, trying to make me understand
And everything is in his book, and somewhere deep beneath that look
His mind is spinning round theories of childhood, spent in misery
And all those words that floats through the air, well they don`t mean a shit to me –
I`m not into science.
My mental life is in his files, and he never dare to smile
His busy mind never rest, `cause he is aiming to be best
While I spend my time dealing with demons and trying to figure it out
Why all these shadows keeps pulling my leg and sucking blood from my mouth –
well I`m not into science.
Here`s a pill for all your worries, it will make you rest from all your hurries
There`s a therapist at your door, he will treat you down to your inner core
And soon your symptoms will be much lighter, and your day seem a little bit brighter.
And the years ahead will bring you joy and pleasure all thanks to this treasure –
they call science.
© Ingve Sandvold