You tell us to get the morgue ready for you,
we shake our head
oh, don't say that
we mean, its gonna be alright
but how do we know
that you really mean you'd rather die
than feel the pain that
extraordinary measures can cast
on a living soul

the doctors rush in
and rush out
everything- they say is emergent
you are equal
you, plus your disease,
the doctor is the solution
I mean the doctor has the solution
but is all the pain worth it?
you're at a battle with the odds
not given much of an option
you might as well
be chained to the bed

too tired to bathe
too tired to sleep
each breath of air
an underwater cyclone
trying to expand your lungs
against the waves of blood

you whisper,
I'm not gonna make it,
I'm not gonna make it
but sir,
you already have
bring your dancing shoes to heaven
you'll be able to breathe easy
again
*you've made it
you're almost there