| The Man |
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| Written by Mini Moo | |
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He sits at the table, As if waiting, Waiting for something to arrive. But what is it? Who is it? No one knows, By maybe it's the fulfilment we're waiting for, Throughout our little lives. His gaze never leaves the door, His face empty of expression. As if he's empty, Or hollow, No substance inside. What is he looking for? Does he search inside his soul? Do we know what fulfilment Will make this person whole? His beer glass half empty, Or is it half full? His head full of torment, But it doesn't show. To let it show would be too easy, People would recognise his pain Enveloping him, Possessing him. Like a lost spirit, A tortured soul, Looking for an answer to life, A Plan, A goal. He has no direction, No guidance from that angel. The angel we all look to, To survive these lonely nights. He looks up to the sky, in search of a sign. Something to give him hope, To give him faith. Is there something up there? Does anybody know? Will anything give this man, the strength he needs to fight? To fight the loneliness, To fight the pain. Maybe one day his search will end And his soul May be whole Once again. |