Under the light between heaven and
my morbid body;
it's there.
The Doctor forgot the anesthesia.
The succession of my repression;
there is no one better.
He let me feel every inch of
the blade as he tried to perform
a miracle.

Truths are told for entertainment.

He cut me deep, deep, deep...
A single tear shoots out of my left eye;
I can't ever rest.

The virus is part of me now.
Oh how I pray for the times I knew
everything and nothing;
all at once.
I miss seeing everything in black and white.
It is all to vivid now.
I can't help but tremble thinking of those
times now buried in afternoon backyards.

The Doctor can see this, and so, so much more.
He finally understands now.
the operation never stood a chance in hell.
The anesthesia would have been a waste of time,
I suppose.

I wake up and feel nothing;
this time by choice.
I throw coins into that old fountain,
bronze over gold they say.
I wake up and feel it all;
this time by choice.*

I now sob with innocence as my backdrop.
It is always black and white.
The Doctor said this might happen;
everything and nothing equal suicide.