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