Accidents 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