Accidents

I'm not sure what's worse

He waiting or the waiting room

You're next sir, becomes a cruel taunt to you

Recycled air, the smell of sleep and disinfectant

Your god is a two-door elevator

Do they even cure you?

Or is it just to humor us before we die?

If only we could heal ourselves

We wouldn't need to be hooked up to these machines

Let's redefine

Let's redefine

Let's redefine

Let's redefine

Let's redefine

Let's redefine

What it means to heal

Do they even cure you?

Or is it just to humor us before we die?

If only we could heal ourselves

We wouldn't need to be hooked up to these machines