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The old man's sitting there, his head bowed down |
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Every now and then he'll take a look around |
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And his eyes reflect the memory-pain of years gone by |
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He can't regain nostalgic dreams he'll never see again |
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With trembling hands, he wipes a tear |
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Many fall like rain, there's one for every year |
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And his life laid out so clearly now, life that's brought death |
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So nearly now life once he clung to dearly lets go |
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But spare a thought as you pass him by |
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Take a closer look and you'll say |
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He's our tomorrow, just as much as we are his yesterday |
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A lonely grave, and soon forgot |
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Only wind and leaves lament his mournful song |
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Yet they shout his epitaph out clear |
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For anyone who's passing near |
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It names the person lying here as you |
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And you... and you... and you... |
