The old man lies upon the bed
Dependant on the staff
To help him mend
Mop his brow
Watered and fed
The day he dies
The day they dread
And the suction cleans
The mucus throat
It is no good
It is the end
And no matter
How many tears are spilt
The domestics must come round
And clean the floor
Again once more
On the day he was to die
Everyone wants the answer why
Where's his children gone
Where's his wife
He died alone
Is that his choice
Now the shrouded man
Is wheeled away
All his clothes remain unclaimed
And no matter
How many tears were spilt
The domestics must come round
And clean the floor
Again once more
So the relatives have been found
The house is stripped
And laid bare
And no matter
How many tears are spilt
The council must come round
And clean the floor
Again once more