The I.V. and your hospital bed
This was no accident
This was a therapeutic chain of events
The white walls raced past the gurney, the squeaks of its wheels the only sound making its way past the pounding in my ears.
This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor
This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital
The sides of my vision blurred as my head span. The only thing keeping me running was the person who I was chasing, flying down the hallway after them.
It's not so pleasant
And it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal
My breath was coming in short gasps, matching the tears streaming down my face. My chest heaved, but still I kept running.
The anesthetic never set in and I'm wondering where
The apathy and urgency is that I thought I phoned in
We finally reached the room. The door slammed on the wall as they pushed their way through, yelling orders and directions.
It's not so pleasant.
And it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal
I started to push my way through the lab coats and gloves, but someone holds me back. They take my shoulders and steer me out of the room. I fight, but they overpower me.
Just sit back, just sit back
Just sit back and relax
Just sit back, just sit back
Just sit back and relapse again
The door slams shut behind me and I press my face up against the glass. It heats from my breath, the fog spreading.
Can't take the kid from the fight
take the fight from the kid
Sit back, relax
Sit back, relapse again
For a moment, all I see is his chest rising up and down. Then my legs finally give way, and I sink to the floor. I can feel the cold wall through my t-shirt, and I ignore the way it stings.
Can't take the kid from the fight
take the fight from the kid
Just sit back, just sit back
My sobs come in short gasps, like my lungs can't take the pressure. The walls feel like they're closing in, the lights look dimmer, and all I can see is the darkness.
You're a regular decorated emergency
You're a regular decorated emergency
My heart pounds, my ears stop hearing, my eyes stop seeing, and my body stops feeling. I am plummeting through the ground, through the sky.
This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor
This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital
There is pressure on my shoulder. I grab on to that feeling, and use it as my anchor. It pulls me back to the ground and the stinging pain from the wall.
It's not so pleasant.
And it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal
Another lab coat stands over me. They smile kindly. I can't return the favor. All I can smell is the bleach and taste the tang in my mouth.
