I have suffered in a silence,
I have whispered through the pain,
too many friends have fallen down
to see it happen again.

And I have seen it all before,
weak from the escaping city roar,
all of these products replaced by noon
in a state of constant war.

The days have lost their flavour,
they sit like ashes in my mouth;
they leave me with little to savour
beyond brooding over doubt.

And Doris comes to mind,
in all the answers that I find,
to why I kept on with every struggle;
to how my heart grew old and kind.

Now all that's left is memories
and my future of decline,
the rush of life is now but thunder
and they've gutted my father's mine.

And I have heard it all before,
the lull of the anchorman's dull snore;
there's bombs falling in the desert
and there's riots in the grocery store.

I have written all my letters,
I have settled all my debts,
to all the friends who have lent me a kindness;
and all the poetry that is left.