Always wanting to be somebody
We end up as anybody.

Always wanting recognition, applause and fame
We end up as a stagnant corpse, the same
As anybody or somebody.

The words on our departure
Hopefully will be sweet,
The litany profound,
The feelings mutually felt
And memories sincerely said.

And then to breakfast or a pint of beer.
The oysters in this bar are good I hear.

We wish you luck my friend
Where'er you are
Somewhere
Out there
Where we all have to go.

We do not know.

But how do you feel?
A sense of loss?
Yes.
A tear hovering in the eye?
Yes.

Have another pint.
He would have liked that.
He liked a pint or two
Just between me and you.

That corpse they dug up the other day
From London's muddy slime
Its bones were hollow with the pox.

Really... you mean ..?
Yes.

Her name?
No name,
Just a skull
And a body curled in on itself
Protectively around a child.

Her name?
I do not know.