Letra de Accidents

I'm not sure what's worse The waiting or the waiting room "you're next sir" becomes a cruel taunt to you Recycled air, the smell of sleep and disinfectant Your god is a two door elavator Do they even cure you (cut me open drug me) Or is it just to humour us before we die (repair all my defects) If only we could heal ourselves We wouldn't need to be hooked up to these machines Whoa whoa whoa... Let's redefine (6x) What it means to heal Do they even cure you (cut me open drug me) Or is it just to humour us before we die (repair all my defects) If only we could heal ourselves We wouldn't need to be hooked up to these machines Whao whoa whoa...