There's a figure of an angel
standing lonely over your bed.
I didn't see her
until you woke up, eyes searching.
You asked her so softly
lets walk out of here, lets leave this room of mine.

And for a second my head dropped
eyes tired of watching your frail body.
But it only took you that one second, for you to skip your goodbyes.
That final red line, floating through the room -
the last note in your number.
And I panicked as the doctors ran...

Your angel took me by the shirt sleeve
led me out of your cold room.
Doctors rushing, nurses yelling
another person down during their time.
And I'm crying, repeating all our shit that's gone by.
A film reel playing memories in my head.

I worry that I didn't say goodbye
and that you left feeling forgotten.
I worry that the only constant in the past
months you struggled to call life
were the silent prayers to your angel...
asking for today.