It's been at least 6 years since I called you on anything

Now its a telephone on your hospital bed
The most we spoke the least we said
20 minutes fighting with television for awkward conversation
A third of the minutes diluted with silence
When I dont have a response to a sentence
It's been 2 weeks since you had your rib broken
Have to replace your phone cause the kids had stolen it
In that call I revert back to being a kid and selfishly clawing for attention
Knowing I lost that when i was 12 and you were in prison
Or maybe 9 when the shit had too many dimensions
I only had you to blame for becoming the defendant

You were Uninvited baggage on my doorstep
The Crocodile tears in my carriage
Now im 2 hours west by your hospital bed
3 weeks out of the cold
The nurse hearing more than they want to know
My friend told me 6 years ago
She was afraid you were dead and unknown
Washed up on the river bank
Now your hospital is 2 miles away
From the bridge you wanted to jump
Until someone stopped and shut you up