Having lunch at the counter
I take up one stool.
They know I keep coming,
but they don't remember who.
So I eat my sandwich,
lean over my soup.
Drinking my coffee, my water, my soda pop
trying to look cool.

I am here everyday
and everyday I am here.

Nobody writes, nobody's been
calling me for weeks.
Nobody looks in my back eyes,
and my hollow cheeks.
I never got much relief
from sharing my grief
But I never got much relief
from solitaire hide and seek.

Calling to cancel my position
with the company.
Stop sending me gas
and electricity.
Calling Jesus, call my mother,
calling albany.
I am the last man on your wish list,
and you are the last person I may see.