Thrice The Artist In The Ambulance
late night, brakes lock, hear the tires squeal red light, cant stop so i spin the wheel my world goes black before i feel an angel lift me up and i open bloodshot eyes into fluorescent white they flip the siren, hit the lights, close the doors and i am gone now i lay here owing my life to a stranger and i realize that empty words are not enough i'm left here with the question of just what have i to show except the promises i never kept? i lie here shaking on this bed, under the weight of my regrets i hope that i will never let you down i know that this can be more than just flashing lights and sound look around and you'll see that at times it feels like no one really cares it gets me down but im still gonna try to do whats right, i know that there's a difference between sleight of hand, and giving everything you have there's a line drawn in the sand, i'm working up the will to cross it rhetoric can't raise the dead i'm sick of always talking when there's no change i'm sick of empty words, let's lead and not follow late night, brakes lock, hear the tires squeal red light, cant stop so i spin the wheel my world goes black before i feel an angel steal me from the greedy jaws of death and chance, and pull me in with steady hands they've given me a second chance, the artist in the ambulance can we pick you off the ground, more than flashing lights and sound
