Nelda Stockman

Nelda Stockman was her name
 You can't make up that sorta thing
 Skin like a plastic bag
 I was the only visitor she had
 She stood four feet short
 With eyes that always seemed to water
 She was old
 But she was somebody's daughter
 She didn't talk much anymore
 They didn't say what for
 We'd sit there and hold hands
 I'd sing her old country standards
 To know the room you're gonna die in
 Does it make you free or make you silent
 She was old
 But you should have seen her smiling
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 Between the breathing machines and beeps
 I wondered how she'd ever sleep
 The TV never stopped
 But I never heard her watch it
 She kept a military man
 Beside her bed in a frame
 She was old
 And there was nobody to blame
 ♪
 Nelda Stockman was her name
 You can't make up that sorta thing
 She died in her hospice room
 I'd long since moved
 I just got a letter
 It was typed and numb
 Said she was old
 And her time had come
 The day she passed
 Is a day I can't remember
 The day she passed
 Was just like the day after