A hospital looms over my housenBauhaus and black against the red skynI sleep through the sirens and machines that give voicenTo the heartrates of kids who OD every weekendnnBut I'm not one of them and still I'm in this bednWith needles in my arms and wires on my chestnWaiting for an X-Ray, staring at the flowers they all bringnOr watching the TV on the ceilingnnI can remember the view from the top floornStaring out over an urban sprawlnWhere they disconnected her tired body from the machinesnnBut I'm not yet a mother and still I'm in this bednWith tubes stuffed up my nose and wires on my chestnI can hear their voices read to me aloud,nYou must change your life, but how was I supposed to change this?nnThere is a hospital inside menIt's full of medicine and babiesnI'm connected to a million beeping machinesnAnd I'll make a slow recoverynnYou take the lead, I'm in the black nownI'll finally get away