Escape Artist

It seems I'm back at home, lying on the floor of my ward
I must be restrained and contained to measure the void
The ripping and shredding, it can't be ignored
Am I really this fucking crazy or is this simply a ploy

Three days a week, one on one with a counselor
I Is Me isn't needed, Mentality is our sponsor
Different meds are being tested, I gotta take this shit
Every fucking friday they are demanding that I take a piss

My time is continually lost, I Is Me refuses to be contained
The Orderlies are all confused, seeing Mentality mentally strained
Each making the decision to physically abuse me while I'm restrained
But they don't realize that I see with clarity, even when I'm deranged

After so many trips to the pit, when did I Is Me win if Mentality was lost
Suppoedly in a straightjacket, instead of them pairing up, they have been trading off
I really don't know when the straightjacket was removed and ripped with so much force
I Is Me laid silently waiting for things to run their natural course

As he stepped into my cell with his mind on an abusive check
With the aide of the straightjacket, no one heard when I broke his neck
I laid in wait as one by one, they came to inspect
I found a syringe and air bubbles into the neck was all I injected

This is a night crew with minimum workforce allowed
I opened all the padded cells, and now there are homicidal maniacs on the prowl
Motherfuckers that didn't need rehearsing for ripping and shredding pain in the ass nurses
As I walked out of the facility, I could hear the screams being recited like holy verses