50-50 chance, the doctor said
In the cardiac room as she's lying in bed
There's a pan on the floor
Filled with something black, I need to know
I'm afraid to ask
I hug you
I hum to you
I've come to you
I touch you
I tell you
I love you
I sing to you
Bring to you, anything
Her little heart, it beats so fast
Her body trembles with the effort to last
I hug you
I hum to you
I've come to you
I touch you
I tell you
I love you
I sing to you
Bring to you, anything
She's going home, tomorrow at ten
The question is, will she try it again?