THE GOING SONG

Silently walking, nobody talking
Each in a small world of his own, all alone
Thoughts of bed in his head

Out at the station, no conversation
Still in a small world very deep
Half asleep, off to do nothing new

His wife and his home left behind
For six days of hard solid grind
And deep in the back of his mind
He doubts he can take it
He knows he can't break it
He hopes he can make it
If he tries