If Depression conducted traffic
The way it controls most other things
People wouldn't judge my driving nearly as much
You see, it's not me. It's Depression.
But I can't use that as a valid excuse-
Honestly Officer, I didn't do anything,
Depression was behind the wheel all along.
Depression is a teenage cry for attention,
Not a diagnosis that garners sympathy casseroles
Even though I didn't eat last weekend
Cause I couldn't get out of bed for the life of me.
If Depression managed medication
With all the strict precision with which
It regulates chocolate cravings maybe
My body wouldn't revolt so violently, so frequently
And then maybe I'd be good for something
Without constantly fearing my eyes deceived me.