I met a man once, he said he’d lost his life,
His eyes were burdened, his hair black as night,
He cried to me about endless sorrows,
Of things he wished he hadn’t of let go.
He asked me for a drink, two shots of gin,
I told him alcohol substitutes not for medicine,
He sat there mourning the loss of his wife,
He sat there mourning the loss of his life.
I asked him how it happened, he slowly replied,
He stared me down, then let out a sigh,
With a big deep breath he spoke, “I did it.”,
My heart sank deep for the revealing culprit.
He took out a revolver and pointed it my way,
My hands raised fast, I had nothing to say,
He tipped me a c-note and turned to leave,
His pitiful figure exited in front of me.
I gasped a sigh of relief as he walked past the window,
That insane guilty man had truly lost all his hope,
As I phoned the police, I heard yells and cries,
That heartbroken old man had taken his life.