my hands always
wind up in blood
these gloves don't fit
and they leave my hands
smelling like a rusty sock
it's two thirty
the bars have gotten out
and it's time to clean up
culling information
cause the trauma room has
lost his pants
and there's not enough identification
inside a man's blood to
call his family
he's unconscious unclothed and unidentified
soon after the rush of a trauma
the mystery calls
as you standing watching and waiting
nurses washing blood off
every part of him
these gloves don't fit
and i can't seem to
get the blood off of me
there are no dreams about blood
only the sanguine reality of
what happens when
the bars get out
Originally Posted On Site: 2010-02-26 01:07:09
Last Login: 05.09.10
Visits as of 12-12-07: 177
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