The Living Dead
Today I’m feeling so depressed
But I have to get up, be bathed and dressed
I’d much rather stay in bed
Who cares? At eight, it’s time to be fed
Once in a while, I’d like to sleep in
You can’t do that, it’s a mortal sin
I used to think nurses were angels in white
Living here, has made me see the light
We’re a statistic, they bathe and feed
And could care less, what we want or need.
[note to omit the last 4 lines]
They pay no attention to what we say
Selective hearing, is what it’s called today
When the doctor comes, Boy! They’re on their toes
Just mention bathroom and their hearing goes
We can sit for hours in the same old chair
If your behind gets numb, nobody cares
Nursing homes are great, I’ve heard it said
And they probably are for the living dead
Homes are where love lives and grows
If love is here, it seldom shows
This isn’t a home, it’s a room and a bed
A waiting place for the living dead
