he sleeps it off i watch it all pour out in his tired eyes and blank expression he works the dark shift just to feed the kids at home and then he sighs and takes a load off his feet "is it all worthwhile?" he turned to me and spoke "i don't know if you'd call it fate my days are cast in stone" this is your song. he pulled it off he died alone and trapped in a life misspent with discontentment sure enough some missed the tired eyes at home but the turnout stayed down to fifteen the eulogy was short and sweet -- "he worked his tail off fighting for a bitter state of being til the end."