Health Held Hostage

The office walls, they whisper low, can you hear the echoes in the phone?

Another claim, another plea, is your sanity worth more than me?

The fine print hides, a cruel design, can you read between the dotted lines?

They'll tell you peace, can't be defined, can a broken mind ever be kind?

And the gears keep turning slow, another voice on hold, you know

The man behind the curtain sighs, another teardrop, another lie

Oh, the insurance man, with his heart of sand, he holds your health in the palm of his hand

He counts your tears, and weighs your fears, and whispers"sorry" in your ears

The doctor speaks, a knowing tone, can you find solace when you're alone?