This song is about my experience in a coma. While I was partying at a friend's place in my early 20's, I thought it would be fun to scare everyone by climbing to the top of a tree. Towards the top, a limb holding my weight broke and I fell 30 feet. My right cheek and orbital were shattered, and my right wrist was broken. The doctor misdiagnosed me with life-threatening brain trauma, and my parents didn't think they'd see me alive again as I was loaded into the airlift. The diagnosis was corrected at MUSC in Charleston, SC, and everyone took a breath of relief. My family drove down to the medical facility with my CD collection and headphones. After a week, they noticed I was responding to the music. My father boomed "GET UP, IT'S TIME TO GO TO WORK," and my eyelids started fluttering. They immediately pulled the breathing tube and catheter, and I spent the next week readjusting to reality. When I saw my arm was in a cast and thought "I can't play guitar with that," I set the edge of it on the bed rail and pulled it out (it was re-cast the next morning). The nurses rarely saw to me and only left me tiny cups to piss in. I regularly pissed all over myself due to the fentanyl-induced coma I'd just emerged from. They didn't bother cleaning me up. The bed I was in had a noisy air compressor that functioned to aid in circulation. Even being completely doped up, that thing kept me from sleeping and I decided to pull the plug. I slept well for once, but woke up on the metal frame as the mattress had deflated. Sick of it, I stumbled to my feet and yanked all of the sensors and needles out of me (including a large one that went deep into my chest and connected to an artery next to my heart). Blood briefly gushed outward and covered my arm and the chest of my gown. I grabbed what my family had brought for me and set out to escape. Security stopped me at the main entrance and turned me back to my room. I spent the next few days in a haze of shitty hospital food, re-runs of The Cosby Show, and struggling with the incessant noise of the bed I was now zip-tied to. Some friends and family came down to check my progress until I was finally discharged. I slept at least 12 hours a day for the next month, but I picked up the guitar my second day home. It was rough, but Of The Sun (then called Aftermath) managed to book a show at The Social in Myrtle Beach with my arm still in that cast.