a fine young man,
a picture of life,
dislikes himself
in the mirror.
we saw him off,
we talkes of love,
we talkes of sin
and forgot him.

a fine young man,
a picture of life
died alone
in the gutter.
we drank the wine,
we felt the pain,
but no-one felt
like his mother.

father´s not there,
a coward´s choice,
he scomed his son,
so inhuman!
we shook our heads
and turned away,
we also denied
that we knew him.