Now mail comes through the letterbox,
Not as often as before,
Now it’s just bills and other shocks,
That rock me to the core.

Now calls come by the telephone,
Not as often as before,
Mostly it’s just the dialling tone,
Voicemail just as before.

Visitors come and ring the bell,
Not as often as before,
Now just the salesmen come to sell,
Not the ones I adore.

Now I live here just on my own,
Not just as it was before,
Lovers and family have all gone,
They visit me no more.

Invites out come now and again,
Not as often as before,
Kids and grandkids don’t see the pain,
The suffering and the sore.

I fall asleep so well at night,
Not as often as before,
Comfortable in my bed by right,
But resting is so poor.