They call me their Angel.
They think I can save them.
But I can’t protect
The life that God gave them.
I dread talking to them
When they first arrive.
I know their first question
Is if they’ll survive.
In ways to give comfort,
I don’t know what to do.
Is it kinder to lie,
Or to tell them what’s true?
I feel helpless all day.
I feel hopeless all night.
I’m desperate to heal them,
And make them all right.
How can I continue
To look in his eye,
When the next time I see him,
I know that he’ll die?
This job is a burden.
This job has no joy.
I feel like I’m killing
Every young boy.
How many days
Do I have left to serve?
Must I shut down my feelings
To keep up my nerve?
They call me their Angel
With every last breath.
They simply don’t know,
I’m their Angel of Death.
