(Tipton)

The old man's sitting there, his head bowed down

Every now and then he'll take a look around

And his eyes reflect the memory-pain of years gone by

He can't regain nostalgic dreams he'll never see again



With trembling hands, he wipes a tear

Many fall like rain, there's one for every year

And his life laid out so clearly now, life that's brought death

So nearly now life once he clung to dearly lets go



But spare a thought as you pass him by

Take a closer look and you'll say

He's our tomorrow, just as much as we are his yesterday



A lonely grave, and soon forgot

Only wind and leaves lament his mournful song

Yet they shout his epitaph out clear

For anyone who's passing near

It names the person lying here as you

And you...and you...and you...