Never found the tumor that killed him
His dueling teams of quarreling quacks
All he’s left now is a bone-thin widow
Why make billions if you can’t buy health?
But I keep getting twinges
Gutting pains and throbs
Sticking back, neck, head
I know they hurt
Not what they mean
My health division gets me “best in the world”
Top stars of the Hollywood of medicine
They hardly touch but they love to test
Use enough radioactivity to build a bomb
Next they’ll hang me on a Christmas tree
Arms spread
I need answers, they say
Might be, could be, possibly
Are these true opinions of fine liars
Or vaporware spun by well-spoken hacks?
I ask about my liver
They counter with my spleen
Now they claim it’s Inflammation
What the hell is that?
Numbers don’t lie, they say
Are numbers different from everyone else?
My bones tell me something’s brewing
These experts wisely nod and stare
When I tell them I can’t be a shadow
They shove me in white glare
I’d prefer to do as kings of old
When I go they kick, too
My lawyers tell me that’s not right
But who pays lawyers to do what’s right?
Is this groin ache cancer
That pinch in my chest a coronary clot?
Screw it
I haven’t downed whiskey for a week
Of course I smoke too much
I spend my life with doctors