Depression.

Depression
The world is disenchanted; I think it’s safe to say
And order keeps the mad men going
Along their merry way.
It hurts now just to sit there
And keep a happy face,
And the colours matching wallpapers
Are ever more out of place.

The energy is gone now,
It’s all been spent up,
You’ll prop me right up on your knee
And say I’m still in luck:
There’s a jolly man from circus here -
He’ll see you get unstuck.

You see, Doctor Well will make it clear
For you, she’ll make you see
A future of fresh air is far more near
Than thought, you’re ill right now,
A little off-colour, it’s all just grey here.

Yes, it’s grey, and old, and full of sleep,
And it’s got me on my knees.
I’ve worked enough to earn the keep
Of this invisible disease.

Searching through every undusted surface and the floor,
The sun has put a glass to its eye
And the shadows don’t move any more.

All smiles make me sick and grey;
I’ve had too much of you today.

This world is disenchanted.