| We broke up about a year ago, we split amicably of course
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| Then I heard about your accident, you fell off a horse
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| I took flowers to the hospital, when in turn the intern said
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| That he’d help me find the room which held you and your broken leg
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| Hidden by the friends and relatives, all gathered round your bed
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| Yeh, you had a cast of thousands, of signatures
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| And charts filled with your fluctuating temperatures
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| You handed me a pen and poitned just below the knee
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| I’m glad there’s still a part of you, reserved for me
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| Do you remember how we met like laughing children
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| Or just how clean it ended
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| In the darkened ward at night, when all blinds are decended
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| But now I get a pang of pleasure seeing your leg suspended
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| Shame they can’t cover us in plaster and in six months all is mended
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| But I love the smell of hospitals more than just a bit
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| When I was young I couldn’t keep my nose out of the first aid kit
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| But when the very thing that brings you here also makes you go
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| The top floor elevator’s just got one arrow
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| Why so many dirty looks? |
| I’m in the kitchen with too many cooks |