You look like you're asphyxiated, could it be you're dead?
You're the campfire story we've all come to know and loathe.
You sneak through the holes of the phone into my willing head.
You're the disease that has always been right underneath my nose.

You must have done something you shouldn't have at some point.
Broke in, broke the skin, broke my bones, made me think you're a nurse but made me forget
I'm a Doctor.

You hook me up intravenously. You are my blood supply.
You answer all my dire with your well constructed lies.
You wouldn't let me breathe without your supervision.
You wouldn't let me leave without getting your permission.

You must have slipped me something and performed some surgery.
Broke into my brain, snipped some nerves, made the change.
You're my Nurse. Please never leave my side again.

You treat me like a chore now, one you never want to do.
I'm clinging to your side while you try to leave the room.
It's your fault I'm like this. I didn't get to choose.
You made me an invalid with your vile empty flu.

You must have slipped away to perform some surgery on some other Doctor in more need than me.
I woke up one morning and felt a cold breeze and then I didn't feel anything after that.
It's not like anything will help. I have to learn to die alone, mend all of my bones.
Now the brighter path has shown itself. I'm doing well.
You're no Nurse but I'm a Doctor.