This procession passes me by

And I weep into my handkerchief

I did not know you, my friend,

But you are dead and possessed of some relief.

And the rain, it continues

To fall upon my head

And my hair

Is looking scruffy

And my shoes

Let in the water

And I weep

Into my handkerchief

Alone on this dead street

As the night falls like fate

All that I could do, my friend

I could only have done when it was too late

And it is so cold.

And I am waiting for the procession

To come back for me

Just give me some light relief

And leave me underground.