| Lyrics |
not sure what's worse
the waiting or the waiting room
"Your next sir" becomes a cruel taunt to you
recycled air, smell of sleep, and disinfetant
your god is a two-door elevator
do they even cure you
(cut me open drug me)
or is it just to humor us before we die
(repair all my defects)
if only we could heal ourselves
we wouldn't need to be hooked up to these machines
lets redefine, what it means to heal
do they even cure you
(cut me open drug me)
or is it just to humor us before we die
(repair all my defects)
if only we could heal ourselves
we wouldn't need to be hooked up to these machines
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