Sticky Labels

I used to be a loony,
bein’ a loony sure is lonely,
cos I thought I was the only one,
and bein’ a loon, my friends had gone,
your friends can’t be depended on,
when you are not like them.

Now I’m a loony with a label,
Hey I’m mentally disabled!
now it’s OK bein’ unstable,
cos there’s books with graphs and tables,
but beware those who finagle,
all the lovely loony money,
now the welfare think I’m idle,
and they treat me really funny.

Guess the label’s lost its novelty,
the shrinks don’t see the real me,
they see a live commodity,
it’s all revolving doors you see,
they profit from my misery,
to get them cars and property,
while I’m stuck here in poverty,
it’s daylight bloody robbery.

I think I’ll ditch the label now,
it doesn’t help me anyhow,
I’ll be a loony like before,
no label, no revolving door,
no glib unhelpful narratives,
and pardon the pejoratives,
I’m pretty sure I’ve paid my dues,
just check the bottoms of my shoes,
I made an art of how to lose,
I don’t just mean my mind.


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