Test, check. Well, he's been released again today, and I'm back where I started

Looking over old notes, listening to tapes, wondering how bad I potentially messed up this time

The wounds seem to be healing, and he seems to be getting along

Without his appendages

And I know he seems fine, but 'seems' can be a very dangerous word, especially in this business... it can be fatal

Initial Diagnosis: Catatonic. And I know he's back there somewhere

But there's just no response whatsoever, to any kind of stimulus

We'll start him with medication tomorrow, for sure

This man's tragedy has made him a prisoner in his own body

And it's not just tragedy, it's dementia, despair;

It's this hole I can see in each of his eyes

Where all the events that happen in this real world kind of just fall through

It's loneliness in it's most crippling form, the kind that no amount of love

Or human contact, could ever mend

The patient was plagued by violent nightmares, terrible, deeply troubling dreams

Which one night overflowed in to reality, and he murdered his wife, in his sleep

These people were in love, deeply in love

And it was that love filling those holes that I can now see behind his eyes

And it's my job to try and fill those holes with something else

But with what? Hope? I can try to fill those holes with drugs, soothing words, but that's all

I hope his wounds will heal with time, but right now, things aren't looking good

The lines I wear around my wrist are there to prove that I exist

The lines I wear around my wrist are there to prove that I exist

The lines I wear around my wrist are there to prove that I exist

The lines I wear around my wrist are there to prove that I exist

The lines I wear around my wrist are there to prove that I exist

The lines around my wrists, the infection seems to be getting better

It's in the center of my torso, behind my eyes and in the back of my head

Something is eating me alive from the inside out

Well that's grief, loss

Don't tell me what it is