Punchdrunk Paroles

He waited for the bell to ring,
He prayed the lord would save his eyes.
He heard church-folk swaying and sighing
"it's all right."

He liked his kids,
He liked his sky-blue Valiant,
He like the pay.
"The boss' fine young talent"
They all would say.
And just a pension later
He'll be free,
Do what he wants.
Bereave the dream,
Now sleep,
Now slowly die