Grounded

Doctor's leaving for the holiday season

Got crystal ice picks, no gift for the gab

And in the parking lot is the sedan he bought

He never, he never complains when it's hot

He sold a swollen daughter

In a sauna playing contract bridge

They're soaking up the fun or doing blotters, I don't know which

Which, which boys are dying on these streets

I know the medical world could knock you out

To sell the coins that you jayed last Thursday

Dine by candle light and hold your savings tight

You never, you never know when the bridge falls apart

We spoke of latent causes, sterile gauzes

And the bedside morale

We traipse around the table talking sentences so incomplete

Please, plea, boys are dying on these streets