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17th Street Treatment Centre

On the 21st day, the sun didn't hate me

The food wasn't angry, the bed didn't sigh

The ceiling said it's possible I might get my looks back

On the 21st day of my stay hereOn the 21st day, I danced to the Twelve Step

Examined, admitted I'm powerless too

Sang the one about the spring, the cat ran away

On the 21st day of my court-ordered stay, hereThe punk and the priest and the real-estate agent

The girl with no teeth and the shaky marine

The serbian deadhead who wears his sunglasses

So no one can see at my eyesIn for three weeks, or in for forever

Here at the 17th Street Treatment Center

Most of us probably not getting better

But not getting better, together

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