I know how they feel
The old ones who stare
Out from the void of their eyes,
Into the space that’s unreal
When nobody cares
In the hours from sunset to sunrise.

Dotted in pubs, hiding from laughs,
Watching the heads on their stout,
Reviewing the streets through the windows of caffs,
Crossing their feet and ceasing to doubt

That they must be alone,
The old ones that grew
Once in some mother’s womb,
Breathed in the light, lived in a home
Where nobody knew
That death was life in a room.

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