[Intro] Yeah. Appointment at two. I’m “doing better.” That’s what the form says. [Verse 1] I sign my name wrong on the clipboard twice, Receptionist smiles like, “That’s alright,” I’m polite, take a seat by the plastic plant, With a dry mouth, cheap pen, and a shaking hand. GP says, “How’s sleep?” I say, “Fine, I guess,” While my left eye twitches like a lie detector test. Little white tablet in a blister pack, Supposed to put the colour in the picture back. Therapist nods with her NHS lanyard, I joke so quick that she misses the danger. “Any thoughts lately?” I grin, “Not really,” Whole time my head’s doing laps round the building. I got a folder full of worksheets, breathing techniques, Box-tick progress, six good weeks. I tell ’em I’m coping, I’m calm, I’m clean, Then I stare at the carpet like it knows what I mean. [Hook] I smile for the doctor, then die in the lift, Thumb on the button like, “Come on, quick.” Teeth all straight, but my eyes don’t sit, Medication smile, yeah, I’m good at it. I smile for the doctor, then die in the lift, Say the right words, let the clipboard tick. If they ask how I’m feeling, I lie with a grin, Medication smile with nothing plugged in. [Verse 2] Mum texts, “Proud of you,” three heart signs, I type “thanks” back, delete it five times. Flat got dishes doing shifts in the sink, Bin bag split, and the hallway stinks. I’m paying for hope on a direct debit, Ten sessions deep and I still don’t get it. Therapist says, “Name what you feel in the chair,” I name the chair brand. We both just sit there. I learned to say “boundaries,” learned to say “growth,” Learned to say “trigger” when I mean “I don’t know.” Learned to breathe square, four in, four out, Still flinch when the post hits the floor too loud. Mate says, “You’re funnier now, less intense,” That’s the meds, bro, they put foam on the fence. I can still see through it, still climb in my head, Still make my bed look like I never left bed. [Hook] I smile for the doctor, then die in the lift, Thumb on the button like, “Come on, quick.” Teeth all straight, but my eyes don’t sit, Medication smile, yeah, I’m good at it. I smile for the doctor, then die in the lift, Say the right words, let the clipboard tick. If they ask how I’m feeling, I lie with a grin, Medication smile with nothing plugged in. [Bridge] The worst part? It works just enough. I wash my hair. I answer calls. I buy bananas before they bruise. Everyone claps for the version of me that knows how to perform being fine. [Verse 3] I ain’t against help, I’m against the pretending, The “well done” sticker on a bad ending. Against that face in the pharmacy glass, Looking like me with the volume down half. Doctor says, “See you in six,” I say, “Great,” Like I don’t count days by the pills in the tray. Lift doors close, metal box, third floor, I breathe like the worksheet says—still want more. Not death, not drama, just one honest minute, Where nobody grades me for how I spin it. Where “better” don’t mean I can laugh on cue, Where “stable” don’t mean I’m convenient to you. So I stand there smiling at the camera dot, Same old joke with a cleaner plot. If I make it downstairs, that’s a small little win, Even if I step out with the same grin. [Final Hook] I smile for the doctor, then die in the lift, Thumb on the button like, “Come on, quick.” Teeth all straight, but my eyes don’t sit, Medication smile, yeah, I’m good at it. I smile for the doctor, then die in the lift, Say the right words, let the clipboard tick. If they ask how I’m feeling, I lie with a grin, Medication smile with nothing plugged in. [Outro] Ground floor. Doors open. Same face. Different room.
