Bethany Home

Bethany Home
The harsh winter air looms
Stagnant dark and cold
I stay in the glass panel
See my reflection I'm getting old
Through thirty-three Street
She stands defying time
Built with bricks long
And now let die souls

This is not a home
It's just a place to die
The elderly are forgotten
Never, never, never know why
Men and women have between
Their memories are ancient
I'd give my life away
To hear the stories of the century
Another paramedic truck
With the light and the sound of sirens
Another sheet pulled tight stretcher
My own mortality is feared