The bright white of ambulance lights
Cast over my face in lieu of the dawn of the new day
As the ferry of Providence pulls away from the shore
The fate of The Matron drives for the line of horizon

I pray

           What's prayer,
anyway?

This close to death
I get the scent
It's coming
It's coming

Once again and
I never quite
Recovered
Recovered

My capacities
From the last time
It found me
It found me

It found me