There's an old man
sitting across from me
drinking a small coffee
with his bags of groceries
he sings gently to himself
the songs of his youth
he doesn't get the world today
but he tries hard to
He talks to the strangers
as if they are old friends
or grand children
but nobody has time
not for a lonely old man
who just wants to talk
so he goes on singing
the songs that remind him
of a simpler time
of his youth
when the world was his
before it all became
so **** confusing