His loving wifenShe said she misses him dearlynAnd she still gets up early in the morning like to wake him upnShe said life was much better when they made it upnShe's got his pension check in a frame next to the bednKisses it every morning so she'll never forget who he was, what he didnIt should matter more than thisnnFew things remain clear to her about himnThat voice, that phone. without his calls that he's late, it doesn't feel like homenWe'll build an overpass so the underclass won't cross our streetnAs you write zeros, the boulevard growsnnAnd this was himnHe was a company heronHe was a martyr for zeros and the bottom linenBut he traded his family for the overtime.nYou always say you want to have kids but your life's over when theirs beginsnAnd all the money that you're always saving for vacations that we never take.nnTake all your money and give it away to some cause that we can relate tonSponsor a corporation and keep the markets alivennRemember your sweet hair and how you used to let it down for me?nWas that passion?nOr just the fashion?nnNot one more late night dinner alonenNot one more goodnight over the phone.nThere's too many empty rooms in this house.nWe'll tear down the walls til everything falls down