He does things he has to do
To keep food on the table;
He’s often weary to his bones,
But does the best he’s able –
A life that’s made from smiles and hope
And chances there for taking;
Of being present, being real,
And sometimes, slightly faking
But always, always, working hard,
In tireless pursuing
Of all that he can find out there
And all that is worth doing
Then waiting for that time at night
That’s key to his survival:
To hear the voices he loves best
That wait his home arrival
