a smoke-filled room where happy persons congregate
there in the corner looms a man who has no fate
so hard to find
what's in his mind
maybe he's waiting for someone from yesterday
or so they say

remember way back when he functioned as a whole
but now his habits have begun to take their toll
prescriptions filled
more brain cells killed
there's nothing he can't do to stop the rate of decay
or so they say

a gloomy mood of doom has filtered through his haze
he knows he's entering another crucial phase
he drops his head
his brain needs fed
it's not so hard to be like him, maybe one of these days
or so they say