i can survive, but i don't know if i want to
turn off the machines i've sprung a thousand leaks
i can feel everything listen
get your fingers out from under my skin
just let me lay back and drip
paste up my parts and i'll be a bed-ridden frankenstein
with diseased mental faculty,
a depression you can't remedy with your scalpels,
your stitches, and stainless steel,
your arrogant radical zeal, i'm bleeding, infected, unsterile
i've got bags that you can't cure
Doctor! Doctor! Doctor, are you listening?
i'm trying to explain something, but you're not listening
like i can't speak