Forlorn and ashen faced he sits on the bench
Tears in his eyes and a personal hygiene stench
From his bottle of whiskey he gulps and swigs
Eyes bloodshot hands shaken for another fix
Shoes with gaping holes and shirt sleeves stained
Memories dissipated in a constant haze he remains
A coat with buttons missing and his collar is tattered
Yesterdays young dreams utterly shattered
His hand shakes as he reaches into his pocket
To reveal a bottle of tablets, one last suicidal rocket

But help is at hand with a police station over the road
No more darkness like a dreary song by Depeche Mode
We need to fill in some paperwork the officer says
Ask you some questions, some more pen pushing delays
Listen this man is going to **** himself I said
His blood will be on your hands if he ends up dead
I walked out and sure enough an officer was deployed
This needless pen pushing paper work makes me annoyed
Overpaid political dinosaurs out of touch with reality
Another number brush it under the carpet, just another fatality