Murray Street’s not lovely
No rows of handsome brick
It’s squeezed between parking stacks
And the warehouses of the sick
The only people who go there
Are the broken and the lame
The ones who are decaying
Who are being dealt out of the game
I spend a lot of time here
It’s become my second home
I park my truck and go inside
Go up the elevator alone
The 16th floor’s a quiet place
Wooden floors and hushed halls
People are busy dying here
And that takes balls
The nurses are most skilled
Ninjas of death and comfort
They know the way intimately
To soothe a breaking heart
They are so attentive
So caring and so warm
Your failing love
Will come to no harm
It’s not a place I want to come
But I have to, you see
Someone who is dying in here
Is depending on me
Murray Street’s not lovely
No rows of handsome brick
It’s squeezed between parking stacks
And the warehouses of the sick