Yes, they enjoy living, love their work
then when by hi’self, there is nothing to lovewife 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 fallthen by the river a stranger gave him a smilehe decided, to linger on for just a short whilein the old worn out relaxed-kind of style.
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