The Low Anthem Follow

I met her down at the apothecary
Her sad, sad eyes, the burden she carried
Oh darling, try this one if you need a friend
I've got the cure for the shape that you're in

When you met me you were numb from the voice in your head
Conspiracy, delusions that your boyfriend kept fed
But I swear I want nothing, just give me your hand
I've got the cure for the shape that you're in

With her saccharin luster, she's a hard little pill
She eased me, taught my hands to be still
Just once in the morning, evening again
But she had the cure for the shape I was in

Since I met her down at the apothecary
Her sad, sad eyes, the burden she carried
Oh darling, try this one if you need a friend
I've got the cure for the shape that you're in

All delusions of grandeur, they've long left my head
As I wrote off the notion that I'd been well-bred
Firs she shot me with whiskey, then chased me with gin
Swore I was the cure for the shape she was in

Then she left me reeling with that time release feeling
By the long whisper thunder I hung from the ceiling
So if you see me down at the apothecary again
I can't find a cure for the shape that I'm in

Since I met her down at the apothecary
Her sad, sad eyes, the burden she carried
Oh darling, try this one if you need a friend
I've got the cure for the shape that you're in

I've got the cure for the shape that you're in