text: On the twenty-first day, the sun didnt hate me
  The food wasnt angry, the bed didnt sigh
  The ceiling said its possible I might get my looks back
  On the twenty-first day of my stay here
  On the twenty-first day, I danced to the twelve-step
  Examined, admitted Im powerless too
  Sang the one about the spring the cat ran away
  On the twenty-first day of my court-ordered stay here
  The punk and the priest and the real estate agent
  The girl with no teeth and the shaky Marine
  The Serbian Deadhead who wears his sunglasses
  So no one can see at my eyes
  In for three weeks or in for forever
  Here at the 17th Street Treatment Centre
  Most of us probably not getting better
  But not getting better together