I’m feeling very lonely,I’m feeling very sad
The cat has scratched my ankles ; I think I have gone mad.
I have to face reality,I have to see it all.
I must not use denial,I have no bloody gall
I must not yet re-marry,I must not go to bed
Apparently ,it’s sinful,though my old man is dead.
There seem to be some rules,though they are all unsaid
Who will keep on watching me and see what books I’ve read.
I can’t read about doctors,I can’t watch Casualty
I can’t bear hearing sirens,I wonder where to flee.
I can’t read no real fiction and I can’t draw no art
I only took the oil paint to spread it on my heart.
I’m going to ask the doctor if I can have it out
It’s made me feel so dreadful, he cannot have a doubt.
Surely some new batteries would serve me in its stead.
Hearts are such a problem even when you’re dead.
Some folk have them pickled and some have them in jars
I’ll keep it on the Printer or in my sister’s car.
No-one will offend me for I will never feel
Just one tiny problem,will I still be real?
If I am sent to Heaven will I feel like Hell?
What a bloody nuisance, nobody will tell.