Suits or Straitjackets

[Intro – three sharp heel clicks in a sterile hallway] Click Click Click [Calm female voice] Mr. Preston… We are here for you. [Low mechanical bass begins] What is this? A meeting of the minds? Or is it my mind Playing games again? Everyone is dressed in white Sitting perfectly still Every smile looks rehearsed Every stare could kill It’s cold in here No colors other than white No windows on the walls No difference between day and night [Pre-Chorus] They motion toward the empty chair Like I’ve already agreed A folder with my name on it But nothing underneath [Chorus] Are those suits Or straitjackets? Tell me what I’m looking at Is this business Or confinement? There’s a lock behind my back Are those suits Or straitjackets? Why is everybody calm? They keep smiling as they tell me Mr. Preston—nothing’s wrong [Sharp guitar interruption] Click Click Click A pen against the table Keeping perfect time Every person in the room Repeats the final line “We only want to help you” “We only want what’s best” Then why are there restraints Folded underneath the desk? [Pre-Chorus] The walls are moving closer The air is getting thin Someone turns the handle But the door won’t let them in [Chorus] Are those suits Or straitjackets? Tell me what I’m looking at Is this business Or confinement? There’s a lock behind my back Are those suits Or straitjackets? Why is everybody calm? They keep smiling as they tell me Mr. Preston—nothing’s wrong [Breakdown – dry drums, distorted bass and ticking pen] Sign here Sit down Speak clearly Don’t shout Stay calm Don’t fight Everything Is white Sign here Sit down We are here For you [Bridge – vocal begins controlled, then breaks] Is this a meeting of the minds? Then why can’t I speak mine? Is this my imagination? Then who locked the door behind me? Every face looks just like mine Every voice repeats my name Maybe I called this meeting Maybe I invented everything [Final Chorus] Those aren’t suits They’re straitjackets Now I know what I’m looking at This isn’t business It’s confinement And there’s no turning back Those aren’t suits They’re straitjackets Still, everybody’s calm They close around me as they whisper— [Music stops] Mr. Preston… You were wrong. [Outro – three distant heel clicks] Click Click Click.