I will not write poetry or novels,
I won’t read science fiction in my nook.
I am staying in a junkie’s hospice,
And I feel - I’m going to get hooked.

Some are dealing with wounds and disorders,
Some are seeking the safety they like.
Hey, you fellows, my dopers and stoners,
Hurry up and get off of the spike!

Now my head is ringing with the questions,
I have many worries in my heart,
For I’m staying in a ward with patients
Who have swallowed, stabbed and sniffed a lot.

Someone punctured their souls with a needle, 
Some were left all alone by themself.
Hey, you guys, ditch this opium evil,
Better switch now to Apokyn help!

Next to me a schizophrenic stranger,
(Nurses have a secret crush on him)
Tells me: "If my cash flow is in danger,
I will switch to sleep pills on a whim!

Someone punctured their conscience and morals,
Someone breathed in the weed in their heart.
Hey, you guys, you deserve a good novel,
But alas, I’m not good at this art.

Change is needed, urgently and timely!
Even our most cheerful one looks sad.
Fifth day straight, they’re looking for the vein lines:
They can’t find them, neither can this lad.

Someone snorted cocaine up his nostrils:
It’s an instant effect, as they say.
Someone gobbled up codeine by bottles:
And got wasted himself in a day.

I like party people, but not dopers; 
I like daring guys who don’t get stoned.
I am staying in a junkie’s hospice,
And I’ve heard so much within this ward!

Some are driving big cubes in their forearm,
Some are eating hard tungsten and glue.
Volunteers for affliction and torment,
You should know that this song is for you!