Yes, they enjoy living, love their work
Then when by hi’self, there is nothing to love
Wife confesses deceit, whiskey’s in a bottle
Parents long gone, children grown
Splendour around surrounds, yet alone
In thoughts of how it was meant to be
He could down the whisky with a bottle of pills
Loves life but sickness he feels
It so happened that he didn’t love life, at all
Detached and alone, no distance to fall
Then by the river a stranger gave him a smile
He decided, to linger on for just a short while
In the old worn out relaxed-kind of style.
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