The Art Of Anesthesia .::. Braden Barrie

Sometimes I think about who I should believe
The people who are dead or the people who are free
Sometimes I hear them as they whisper to me
I try to stay awake so I won't die in my sleep

And I was quick to take a second look through
The window on the door of the operating room
And the adrenaline, it threw my eyes
To the table on the floor where the patients lie

I saw his face and I could not speak
As the anesthetic kissed his cheek
I felt my lips go cold and my limbs go weak
Because the body on the table where the patients die was me
It was me

There was a lie between my demons and me
And a body made of paper in the passenger seat
As I open my eyes, I could not see
I felt the stitches come loose and the blood run free

He looks at me with hollow eyes
And he whispered my name as the flowers died

And I feel so tired and wounded
Like the stitches on my soul came apart
I'm standing here in the dark

( how I visioned the song when I first heard it )