Lonely fool.
Only a radio for comfort.
The warm body of his friend has gone.
A soft and gentle mind of happiness is forgotten.
He sits in H.P. luxury,
And cries.
But his tears are dry because no one sees them.

As he wanders he wonders.
His future is out of his hands.
And he'd love to be just like his Mummy and Daddy,
Sitting in H.P. luxury.
But his tears are dry because no one sees them.

© Edward ian Armchair 2002