Kinda sad and angsty, and still strangly amusing...
I rode an ambulance last night,
It made haste and even speed a red light.
The sirens wailed like a broken record,
And we almost hit an old green ford.
At the hospital everything smells clean,
My doctor was handsome, tall and lean.
His name is Tom and he always lie.
I love him because he says I won't ever die.
Emergency surgery, I had been here before.
Not long ago, the scars were still sore.
I got a shot that made me feel numb,
From a sister I accidentally called 'mum'.
I woke up in a room sparkling white.
Tom was there like my shining knight.
I gave his cheek a simple kiss,
Thanking for all he does and is
I could go so I took the next buss.
I never go home, they make such a fuss.
My friend Pete got a flat where people can crash.
And do what they want if they got the cash.
That night I pulled back the bandages to see,
The new stitches Tom made to save me.
He said I was lucky to get blood from a bank.
Does this mean it was kept in a big tank?
Why is this blood so much better than mine?
I don't need changing, my heart works fine.
So I open the wound to see if its as red as before,
And nothing is different, its just a lot more.
Tomorrow I'll give Tom a kiss on the mouth,
And if I survive I might ask him out.
Poetry by Dilla
Read 675 times
Written on 2005-08-29 at 11:26
Tags Sadness
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New Blood
I rode an ambulance last night,
It made haste and even speed a red light.
The sirens wailed like a broken record,
And we almost hit an old green ford.
At the hospital everything smells clean,
My doctor was handsome, tall and lean.
His name is Tom and he always lie.
I love him because he says I won't ever die.
Emergency surgery, I had been here before.
Not long ago, the scars were still sore.
I got a shot that made me feel numb,
From a sister I accidentally called 'mum'.
I woke up in a room sparkling white.
Tom was there like my shining knight.
I gave his cheek a simple kiss,
Thanking for all he does and is
I could go so I took the next buss.
I never go home, they make such a fuss.
My friend Pete got a flat where people can crash.
And do what they want if they got the cash.
That night I pulled back the bandages to see,
The new stitches Tom made to save me.
He said I was lucky to get blood from a bank.
Does this mean it was kept in a big tank?
Why is this blood so much better than mine?
I don't need changing, my heart works fine.
So I open the wound to see if its as red as before,
And nothing is different, its just a lot more.
Tomorrow I'll give Tom a kiss on the mouth,
And if I survive I might ask him out.
Poetry by Dilla
Read 675 times
Written on 2005-08-29 at 11:26
Tags Sadness
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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