• He sat on a lonely curve,
    by the side of the road,
    Cars had to swerve,
    to avoid hitting him.

    He didn't care,
    he could care less if the car hit him or not,
    if he would die or not,
    As the cars swished passed him,
    sending a breeze through his dirty hair,

    His eyes never moved,
    he never looked around,
    not even if money,
    or food was placed before him,
    on the ground.

    His head was a broken record player,
    playing those sweet words inside his head,
    his eyes glazed over,
    as he fell down dead.

    Yes,
    He had a funeral,
    and only one person had come,
    that someone,
    a beautiful women,
    stared at his dead body,
    that somebody cried.

    "You fool!" she screamed at him,
    "How could you just give up like that?"
    "There's so many things you could have been!"
    She lay her head on his chest and wept,
    "You had so much you could have done with your life."
    Small tear drops landed on his chest,
    she pushed away his curly hair,
    "And I wanted to be there with you."
    "As your wife."