Song For Widows So They Might Be Set Free

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The Jealousies

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Leaking into the same bag for years on end
Cold hands pull and machines suspend
We try to shove food into your mouth as your dying
You're not dead yet, but we're trying

You play with broken dolls
Wander up and down these halls
Another meal on a tray
I think about how I get to leave at the end of the day

Someone calls out for a mother long dead
Don't even look at what you're being fed
I check my hands for wrinkles when I work there
I strip an uncomprehending lady bare
You gotta ask permission for a cigarette

Patronised for the rest of your life
We change the subject when you want to see your wife
Your legs will seep, abandoned here
Your mind will never clear
Underpaid strangers tending to your strife

You play with broken dolls
Wander up and down these halls
You're going to die anyway
I think about how I get to leave at the end of the day

Your body rots away before you even react
Like a dead spider or a mummy, your limbs contract
I'm 100% used to the smell of shit
I try to give you words of hope like a hypocrite

Working hard, but getting numb
Make everything look okay 'fore the visitors come

You play with broken dolls
Wander up and down these halls
Another meal on a tray
I think about how I get to leave at the end of the day

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