The sun's last light guides him home tonight.
He's weak and weary, in desperate need of a break.
The light on his porch is comforting and bright,
Reminding him that maybe everything will be alright.
When he gets inside there is a bunch of flowers,
Sitting in the windowsill like someone had just tossed them there.
The light from the moon illuminates them,
Guiding him towards the note carefully tied to the flowers.
The note is from the light of his life, the one who was to be his wife.
Shes leaving him for another, draining the light from his life.
He picks up the flowers, smelling each one slowly.
The flowers go flying in rage, his tired body hitting the ground.
The starlight is all he can see, apart from tears in his eyes.
When morning comes he is drunk and cannot bear the sunlight.
He closes the curtains, turning his once bright room into dark.