There's no one here that knows me
He says to himself alone
The single plate from which he ate
Long ago grew cold

Hoping for a reason
To continue on
But each day life's beating
Chips more off of his soul

He once had a menu
Now tear-stained, tattered, torn
Like his life in black and white
Faded long ago

He can't remember of a time
That his plate was full
Whoever dishes out this life
Serves it rather cruel