Accidents

I'm not sure what's worse

The waiting or the waiting room

You're next sir

Becomes a cruel taunt to youRecycled air

The smell of sleep and disinfectant

Your God is

A two door elevatorDo 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 machinesLet's redefine

Let's redefine

Let's redefine

Let's redefine

Let's redefine

Let's redefine

What it means to healDo 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