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Tekst Dissect The doctor deemed me death, No pills could cure me. I’m hypochondriac to the extent It seems to kill me. I wear the patch. I take the pill But all the medicine makes me ill Health is no sure thing No sure thing Human sentimentality As in the case of life by the sea You know the body swells in water You’d be sickened by the smell Beetle coloured, mouldy flavoured The decomposing of the bone They change the name to fit the shape When this hand doesn’t work no more. I am homeless looking for shelter And I know you’ve got that vagabond heart Your face is like a Haiku All tense and distorted like The blood flows slower through the veins Doesn’t even coagulate this time of year Everything slows down now Everything slows down now Intrusive to the normal thoughts, I feel my bones through skin Tiny, moving particles I see microscopic things Separated by thin membranes Your heart, a cardboard box, smouldering Health is no sure thing No sure thing The doctor deemed me death, No pills could cure me. I’m hypochondriac to the extent It seems to kill me. I wear the patch. I take the pill But all the medicine makes me ill Health is no sure thing No sure thing