Slice Me Up

Teeth are clamped down on the bullet.
 Every nerve I have is hurting.
 Pour ammonia on my open wound.
 I can see streams of blood spurting.
 I want to live to see another day;
 This is the only way, so slice me up.
 Put the scalpel through my filthy skin.
 Pray to God for no infection.
 Pull the musket ball from deep within
 Shattered bones and torn intestines.
 I want to live to see another day;
 This is the only way, so slice me up.
 Lying open, my senses reel:
 When the body is stressed can the spirit transgress the wounds?
 Flying over the battlefield,
 Am I incorporeal, or is this how it feels to lose massive quantities of blood?
 I want to live to see another day;
 This is the only way, so slice me up.