[Verse 1] White walls, gray chairs, fluorescent gloom, A hundred hearts in a waiting room. TV says you'll dance again, But not 'til you sign with your ballpoint pen. [Pre-Chorus] Vitals low, morale is worse— But hey, you’re covered! (If it gets worse.) [Chorus] Take a number, take a seat, We’ll fix you up when the forms complete. We heal in codes, not in touch— If you want real care, you ask too much. Take a number, take your place— Smiles painted on a paper face. [Verse 2] Doctor says, “We could do more, But your plan won’t let us treat the core.” Nurse shrugs, “It’s out of my hands.” You're just a budget line in someone else’s plans. [Pre-Chorus] They treat the risk, not the pain— Cured too fast? No profit gained. [Chorus] Take a number, join the line, You're stable now, you’ll crash just fine. Efficiency wrapped in legal fear— The medicine's gone, but the billing’s clear. Take a number, don’t complain— You’re alive enough to bill again. [Bridge – Spoken/Filtered] “Your condition has been pre-denied. Please remain comfortably unwell.” [(Synths rise – a heartbeat machine stutters.)] [Verse 3 – subdued, bitter tone] Your granddad died with dignity and dust, Now you're delayed behind a fax and trust. One more pill, another scan— Health is a product, not a plan. [Final Chorus – urgent, ironic joy] Take a number, wave your card, Healing’s easy when empathy’s barred. We’ll care enough to keep you down— Too sick to run, too hooked to drown. Take a number, say you’re fine— Modern care by assembly line. [Outro – robotic voice over synth fade] “This concludes your visit. Please rate your suffering from 1 to 5 stars.”
