She was a Good Samaritan and she married a veteran

She didn’t deserve the tattered bed they set her in,

My grandma lies sleeping on the hospital bed,

I can feel my face getting all hostile and red,

They said if I walk in that thing by the bed will stop beeping,

They thinking that the grim reaper is in there reaping,

In the waiting room sighing, Momma crying, doctors lying saying “it’ll be ok,”

They said good medicine goes to people that’s paid,

That’s why they can cure AIDS in the NBA,

But my grandma didn’t ball she just volunteered at the soup kitchen when she wasn’t a teacher,

Standing at the door like “can I please just see her?”

She was a good mother who made good brothers who made good uncles who made good daughters,

And then there’s my father but he couldn’t bother,

To wipe his tears away I know he hurt the most,

I remember church Sundays at her house;and the french bread toast,

I thank my grandma for her patience,

She still looked at us fondly from her bed as a patient,

They finally let us in but I immediately freeze up

Didn’t smell like warm cookies it smelled like they febreezed the,

Entire room to hide the looming scent of death

Lobby room peppermints and gum on my breath

More chemicals in the air than in World War 2

Any more in the air and I would’ve hurled too,

There she was on the bed, I couldn’t look away

But she was about as pale as the room’s light paint,

She says I’m a good kid, I try not to cry,

I try to be a man, I try not to hide

Got nowhere to run,

So I cried into her arms,

One last look at her son, 

Still her own little charm,

She told him “well done”