[Intro – radio chatter, soft]
“Unit twelve en route… unknown age, chest pain.”
Rain on the bay doors. Gloves snap. Breathe in. Go.
[Verse 1]
We ride a razor made of minutes and miles,
Blue lights painting the brick in passing smiles.
Med bag humming like a hymn in my hands,
Tape on my knuckles from a long week’s plans.
Curbside crowd, phone-lit eyes and fear,
“Ma’am, we got you,” bring the stretcher near.
BP cuff whispers like a ghost at the vein,
Ninety over sixty and a winter of pain.
Twelve-lead bloom like a city at night,
Rhythm in ruins but the gaze still fights.
I count compressions like rosary beads,
Hope in the pocket with the Narcan and leads.
[Pre-Chorus]
Call me when the world gets heavy,
I’ll hold the line that won’t behave—
Between the numbers and the naming,
Between the blood pressures and graves.
[Chorus]
We live in the space between the siren and the silence,
Where hands learn mercy and hearts learn science.
Where every breath borrowed keeps daylight brave—
We work the middle, between blood pressures and graves.
Yeah, we work the middle, between blood pressures and graves.
[Verse 2]
Stair chair scrape on a third-floor turn,
L5 sparks, but we never unlearn.
Frequent flyer with a story I know,
Blanket tucked tight like a winter coat.
ETCO₂ paints a line on the screen,
Tiny green mountain where the air’s been.
Coffee gone cold; chart warm from rain,
Writing in margins what I can’t explain:
How a pulse comes back like a chorus reprise,
How a goodbye waits in a daughter’s eyes,
How a city sleeps on a thin red thread,
And we knot it quiet while the clocks burn red.
[Pre-Chorus]
Call me when the night feels endless,
I’ll hold the beat that misbehaves—
Between the numbers and the naming,
Between the blood pressures and graves.
[Chorus]
We live in the space between the siren and the silence,
Where hands learn mercy and hearts learn science.
Where every breath borrowed keeps daylight brave—
We work the middle, between blood pressures and graves.
Yeah, we work the middle, between blood pressures and graves.
[Bridge – spoken/sung]
Scene safe, BSI—still I pray under breath,
“Let me be steady in the valley of death.”
If the monitor sings or the airway caves,
We build a small future out of present waves.
ROSC like sunrise through a windshield stain,
Sometimes it’s thunder. Sometimes it’s rain.
And if it’s a tag and a sheet and a name we save,
It’s a name in the ledger of the ones we gave.
[Breakdown – hush, heartbeat kick]
Count it in: one-and-two-and stay,
Hands like metronomes keep fate at bay.
If the story returns, let it find us brave—
Working the middle, between blood pressures and graves.
[Final Chorus – lifted, choir pad]
We live in the space between the siren and the silence,
Where hands learn mercy and hearts learn science.
Where every breath borrowed keeps daylight brave—
We work the middle, between blood pressures and graves.
(Oh we) live in the space where the brave misbehave,
Where love wears nitrile and the quiet mislays.
