Alone, unprepared
He sits at the table
The hours that have passed
Were so wastefully spent
He looks up from his work
And he sees no new reason
The death of a loved one
Melancholy pain

He tries to find out
Why this restlessness shakes him
There's no success there
Such a futile idea
He scratches his face
To relieve all this tension
He's still under pressure
And yet he can't leave

He weeps for a chance
But he knows it is too much
The time it has come
And he looks at the sky
The clouds are so dark
They reflect his self-pity
He can't ask himself
He still doesn't know why