Transcript
The Stress of This Place Pt. 3 Stress got my blood pressure high And the sick call lady says that I could stroke out and die Can’t exercise because I ain’t seen the yard in days And at chow all there’s a special diet on my trays Ain’t nothing on the Kiosks Healthy It’s either too sugary or way to salty But I pray that I don’t get too sick A box full of bubble packs and going to finger stick? I hope my body doesn’t go through some traumatic event Because I know I won’t receive the proper treatment Tell me how come the doctors don’t speak good English Then how am I supposed to comprehend my diagnosis Every quarter they draw my blood to run a test And until I get the results my nerves are a mess Hoping that I don’t receive any bad news But at this point of my incarceration what more can I loose It’s probably just another one of my paranoid reactions I suppose But will I die on this place? Only fate knows Could I be assuming the worst in haste…… Or could it just be the Stress of This Place The Wordist WAM
