October 18, 2008

Case History of an Old Sick Man

Let me see now
Born in '32 on a farm in a village near the city
Eldest of seven strapping sons
Father died when I was eleven
Raised the others good I did

Oh, you mean why I came here?
I've been feeling down lately you know
I used to run over the hills
Smoke my pipe on top of the tree
Now my legs shake
With every step I take
My hands tremble
I cannot hold my cigarette
The sky is less blue
And my wife's face old and ugly
I think I'm losing my mind
Why, I coughed out so much blood last night
The floor looked like modern art
My joke, sorry

What do you mean do I drink?
The good Lord made the liquor
To ease the hard work of a decent man
I couldn't stop if I tried to and I won't
You'll find me dead with a bottle in my hand
Pouring it down in the funeral pyre

Ah, the children, we had four
They live far away in fancy places
The youngest visits once a year or so
But her swarmy husband makes me sick
I have no use for these computer jobs
Give me a shovel and some land I say
And I'll make a corn-field in the desert

It kind of gets lonely alone in the apartment
I wish they were here
I'm not really sick, am I

I feel all these aches and pains
But I can take them, been through worse
I don't sleep like I used to I agree
Lying awake till the wee hours
The scenes outside th window are strange
It's too fast, this world now
It's not really waiting for us The Old

Sorry
I've coughed like this for years

No, can't walk without puffing like a fat hen
Even the missus has to wait for me
For that matter, both can't see much either
I'm like a car battery dying, only slower

Why do you keep asking about where exactly it hurts?
The real pain I feel is humiliation
No reward for experience, the wisdom of years
And no one to talk to
Except you
My wife has Alzheimer's for seven years now
You're a very thorough student, aren't you?
Good

My memories are so confused
I get depressed from remembering
Just where I left the key last night
This old machine wants just to be sent home
In a bright, shiny coffin made to fit

Do I really have to pee into this bottle
Why am I so useless
I despise the indignity
But I don't feel so strongly about things anymore
Just letting it be

Give me something for the pain and go
You're young and unquenchable
Burn the world with your fire
Before all you are is smouldering ash

But I'm just a case to you
What would I know?

1 comment:

Djarabia said...

My absolut favourite... U inspire!!!

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