Committing her one and only sin,
They locked her up inside
Those darkened walls outside and in,
Where others lived and died.
Reminding her of silent screams,
Of an eeriness so aged and dank,
Her heart so maddened sank,
And nothing real was as it seems.
Oh, my life, I will the end,
Between fantasy and reality I can not tell,
A cure for it, I wish they'd send,
Dear Lord, I would that I were well.
The nights at first were full of woe,
Doctors came and nurses went,
And twisted thoughts her only foe:
Demons and shades from Hades sent
Came to move her on to locked-up places,
Where others paced and puzzles made,
Who just as much from sanity strayed,
With topsy-turvy minds and dirty faces.
Please, my life, I will the end,
Between fantasy and reality I can not tell,
A cure for it, I wish they'd send,
My Lord, I would that I were well.
The noise of laundry wagons early on,
And evenings of jokes played by staff,
A helicopter rescue from RAF Benson,
Video screens to make them laugh:
Of severed heads and pickled jars;
Scanners, pigs and formaldehyde -
Funny from the other side,
And escape attempts foiled by men in cars.
Oh, my life, I will the end,
Between fantasy and reality I can not tell,
A cure for it, I wish they'd send,
Dear Lord, I would that I were well.
Like the soul of an organic brain
In a disturbed body:
Is Millais' woman still sane,
Vainly looking out and full of folly?
Did Ophelia 'want' to drown
In the nearby blackened river?
Or the eroticism make you shiver
As she sinks in petticoats and gown?
Oh, my life, I will the end,
Between fantasy and reality I can not tell,
A cure for it, I wish they'd send,
Oh God, I would that I were well.
