Sciatica Songtext
von Sebastian Melmoth

The putrid smell of the disinfectant
Shall not be a blessing in disguise
One waits for hours to be seen
With only aged magazines to read

A pair of junkies with broken faces
An old man with adultery on his mind
The purple paint, the rustic furniture
I′m turned away just for wasting time


I understand those angelic nurses
Who bring death in a disposable syringe
I too am sick of their whining
This treatment's free. Shut up or get out

The frosty smiles, the waiting hours
The public information posters I′ve read a hundred times
The filthy beds, the ruthless service
We should change it, but only if we progress
A set of symptoms, not a broken spine
Compression of the dorsal nerve root - I can't move
I'm feeling sick. This is way out of order
Why don′t they just wheel me out right now


I understand those demonic nurses
Who bring death in a disposable syringe
I too am sick of their whining
This treatment′s no longer free. Pay up or get out