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."