"Good Mourning Mister"
Here in a room, with a glass full of liquor.
And crushed to know, I desperately do need her.
Standing there, staring right towards a mirror.
Feeling helpless, like a tragic bum filled with anger.
Soft waves, and russet brown eyes. God! you make me sicker.
Working, looking like a piece of rubbish.
People asking me, "What is the matter, mister?!"
Just looking up, like a little boy with a face filled with horror.
And all I want to know is when the next time is that I can see her.
And there in front of a mirror with a glass full of liquor.
Is me. A man filled with anger.
Feeling so sick and so rubbish.
In front of a coffin, with the love of my life inside it.