I think you've got the sickness, I suggest you get it cured.

I think you've got the sickness, I suggest you get it cured.
I suggest you grab that bottle, and pop that pill.
I suggest, I enforce, I watchfully wait for your response.

How would you even know what the sickness is?
I don't see you exhibiting the symptoms yourself.
Or maybe thats just my imagination flashing before me.
I live my live, like the captain of a sinking ship.
I'll do whatever I can to live it to the very end.
I won't abandon, Not for anything.
Don't tell me that you know how my life has been.
Don't say it like everybody else has, telling me what's going on in my head.
You wouldn't know, I don't think you were there. Not at my pivotal moments. Never.
I've done the best to stay afloat in this world of doubt, lies, deceit and destruction.
Not that that means anything to you.
I'm pretty fucking content if you'd like to know.
So scribble that down on your notepad. And sign your name at the bottom.
And give me the exit I'll never take.
Some people need this door, but I don't.
I don't know if I ever will.
But I know I don't need it now.
Thanks for the offer.

Cured.