You've probably been where this song came from. Sitting in on one of those harshly cubic chairs with the thick stain-guard upholstered seat, pulled up beside a bed in an ICU. Someone you care about is sleeping, drugged, hooked up to drips and monitors. You don't hear them breathing, but you know they are - by the incessant meep ... meep ... meep of a machine next to the bed.
There's nothing to do, and nothing to say. They're asleep and everything is quiet except for the beeping, and a man moaning somewhere down the hall. Everything that can be stitched together or bandaged up or medicated has been tended to, and now there's nothing to do but wait and see. Maybe it will all be OK. Maybe it won't, and then it will be you that needs to heal. Either way, this is neither a beginning nor an end - it's the upsetting time in between when you don't know which it will be.