| The I.V. |
| drips, the days drag on,
|
| The anesthetics now wearing off
|
| Adjust the light switch in the hall.
|
| This is the end.
|
| These are the last days.
|
| These are the last days.
|
| Now take our hands in a roll of red tape,
|
| Genetic information strands are tighter than trip wires.
|
| And we awake in the light of other lives,
|
| This can"t be happening, these sirens are for me, yeah.
|
| So what happened to the hospital,
|
| To cut the cost of collected health?
|
| Dying in the shadow of the hospital
|
| We got the city in our blood and it"s making us sick.
|
| But you stay alive until their blood fills up your wallet,
|
| Blazing up the sky.
|
| These are the last days
|
| These are the last days.
|
| Where we all wake.
|
| Where we all wake.
|
| The I.V. |
| drips, the days drag on,
|
| The anesthetics now wearing off.
|
| Adjust the light switch in the hall,
|
| Someone has left it on.
|
| And maybe the x-ray screen keeps it from getting dark.
|
| The bulb burns out when it gets too hot.
|
| Are we just a blink in the eyes of a pulse machine?
|
| It"s lightning divorcing the storm
|
| Try to shut it off, codeine catch, the windows latched and
|
| he clock keeps circling the room tick, tock.
|
| We lost control.
|
| (White out white out)
|
| In white outs followed magnetic fields to the fire.
|
| (White out white out)
|
| Out of control.
|
| We fight currents in the water, we can"t let go to shore.
|
| We lost control. |