It was another sunny morning and I was in bed all alone,
My lower back would barely move and pain surged through my bones.
I stared beyond the window to the gorgeous day outside,
And from my bedroom prison I just cried and cried and cried.

I would give most anything to be the one I was before,
This disease has taken all my body had from me and more.
Now a constant stream of scripts and multicolored pills,
And each day in the mailbox, a brand new load of bills.

Doctors, nurses, hospitals and my insurance corporation,
They do their best to bleed me dry in my recurring desperation.
Surcharges, fees and copays, it's always much the same.
I grow so tired and weary of this wretched little game.

Now I'm faced with selling most of the meager things I own,
Just so that the debt collectors stop blowing up my phone.
I try to put a brave face on and smile for the world,
But just a bit below the skin I'm coming so unfurled.

I didn't decide to be this way, I can't help that I am sick,
But sometimes this society can lay the guilt on thick.
Don't judge what you don't understand, it's not a wise position.
I bet you'd feel differently if we shared the same condition.

Sometimes I really have no clue what I'm supposed to do,
but I have folks that love me and are trying to pull me through.
They're always there to make me smile and lend a helping I hand,
I want to make it up to them but I'm not sure that I can.

I wish I'd never heard the name of this horrible disease,
I wish there was some change in which I'd finally be set free.
Though I'm not at all too thrilled to face the fresh pain of tonight,
I want to make it clear to you: I'm not giving up this fight.