Shouts of a distinct color there screaming a code blue
You can’t be saved because the reaper has his claws
deep inside and there is nothing now a Dr. can do.
Pull the drapes, log the minute and tag the toe
To the hospital’s basement you now must go.
It’s a private encore only my eyes can see
I’m watching you laying there on the prep room table
Can you get up or are you not able?
******* on your wrist and I’m sniffing at your neck
No heartbeat, no pulse only Rigor Mortis
slowly setting in is the only thing I can detect.
Placing my vintage sterling pocket hand mirror in your clutch
Lifting it up for you, to your frigid blue lips it must touch.
Looking for something like fog or the morning dew
Nope it’s not there so now it’s time to
Embalm You!
(SirCARSr. 11-02-13)