Lucy was 87, upon her death bed At the senior home, where she had previously checked in Traded in the locks and clips for a head rest Traded in the charcoal sticks for arthritis, it had to happen And she drew no more, just sat and watched the dawn Had a television in the room that she'd never turned on Lucy pinned up a life worth's of pictures on the wall And sat and smiled, looked each one over, just to laugh at it all No Rico, he had passed, about 5 years back So the visiting hours pulled in a big flock of nothing She'd never spoken once throughout the spanning of her life Until the day she leaned forward, grinned and pulled the nurse aside And she said: "Look, I've never had a dream in my life Because a dream is what you wanna do, but still haven't pursued I knew what I wanted and did it till it was done So I've been the dream that I wanted to be since day one!" Well! The nurse jumped back She'd never heard Lucy even talk Especially words like that She walked over to the door, and pulled it closed behind Then Lucy blew a kiss to each one of her pictures And she died