7 August 2012
There's an old man lives Across from me His house is dark and grim His curtains always closed His front gate booted in. He goes out in the morning The same clothes everyday And comes back in the dead of night When everyone's away. I watch him from my window His grey clothes hanging limp His hunched back carries years of work At least that's what I think
I wonder if he's happy If he's chosen life this way If he's anyone to talk to If he pushed them all away..? If he didn't leave one morning Or didn't come back at night Would the world be any different If this man went out of sight..?
The Old Grey Man... • Opuss № I