Text:
Matthew Good Band Hospital Music

I know that it's bad That it's the kind that they can't operate on And I know it's real slow, honey Painful and real slow Styrofoam coffee cups And bagged

Well there ain't nothin' to this but your daughter And the life you would not give her Break your plans Traipsed across the continent, a squatter For

You're going to take what you can get A hammered Styrofoam Beat into the West Live the highway in your home You're going to get what you deserve And not

I dreamt last night of sirens By flashlight I had found you You just held my hand By the bright lights in some ICU Even the planless have a plan I can

Sunshine, don't you mind them Lie for me now, smile for me now Sometimes my feet don't touch the ground When you come around The devil's in your details

Hey midnight Turn on your light Roll out you stars I look tired But I feel wired And my body hums Like it's coming undone Don't you lie to me Nothing

When Hollywood runs out of Indians When the bar stars melt and their golden hair turns into glass When Hollywood runs out of Indians When the bubble bursts