The Floor

You had your last smoke
then fell to the floor,
and I almost choked
when I walked through the door.

Expected to see
you sittin' up in a chair,
but I couldn't believe
I saw you there,

dead on the ground
with grandma wringing her hands,
and that god-awful sound
of silence from all those men.

One, two, three
on your chest they pumped,
and when they looked at me
I started to slump

down to the floor,
as you did that morning,
God, I expected more
of a warning.

And Grandma in her gown
kept saying "he's breathing,"
Should I let her down?
Or let her keep on believing,

it was just a bad fall,
her son'll be fine tommorow.
But what about all
the men's eyes filled with sorrow?

And I knew you were dead,
when they wheeled you out the door,
Grandma turned to me and said
"He was gone when he hit the floor."