Like a cloud his fingers explodenOn the typewriter ribbon, the shadow growsnHis hearts in a bowl behind the banknAnd every evening when he get homenTo make his supper and eat it alonenHis black shirt criesnWhile his shoes get coldnnTried and true, that's younTried and true, hoo hoooonnI guess I'm lucky to have you herenIn that kitchen, in your chairnSometimes I forget that you're even therennOne summer, a suicidenAnother autumn, a travelers guidenHe hits snooze twice before he diesnAnd every evening when he get homenTo make his supper and eat it alonenHis black shirt criesnWhile his shoes get coldnnTried and true, that's younTried and true, hoo hoooonnTried and true, that's younTried and true, hoo hooon