What's Your Medicine

03:55
Will Wakefield and the Congress Hotel
Will Wakefield

Lyrics

©2009 Will Wakefield

It’s a place, you go when you are scared
It’s a bandage to hide what you can’t bear

It’s a lamppost on an empty street
It’s a flower, strangled by the weeds
It’s your bottle of choice, at the end of the week
It’s a cigarette when she finally leaves

Tell me, does it make you sick?
When you’re all in, but the game is fixed?
Tell me, does it make you whole?
Are you filled up by your snake oil?

Tell me, what’s your medicine?

It’s the lust, behind an obsession
It’s a ladder in a deep depression

It’s a round of applause that never ends
It’s a letter you wrote, that you never send
It’s the scent of a woman as she walks by
It’s what holds you up when you want to cry

Tell me, does it make you sick?
When you’re all in, but the game is fixed?
Tell me, does it make you whole?
Are you filled up by your snake oil?

Tell me, what’s your medicine?

It’s an acquittal, with the justice served
It’s a compliment that’s undeserved
It’s a flush that’s drawn against a straight
It’s a girl that never makes you wait

It’s an ugly scar that’s never healed
It’s a mask of ice, worn as a shield
It’s an elected official that rose from the slums
It’s the silent scream, when she come’s

Tell me, does it make you sick?
When you’re all in, but the game is fixed?
Tell me, does it make you whole?
Are you filled up by your snake oil?

Tell me, what’s your medicine?