He sits by the window
A drink in his hand
Things did not turn out
The way they were planned
He looks out the pane
A tear in his eye
He just can’t wait
To break down and cry
It’s out of control
It happened so fast
Smiles and laughter
Are things of the past
Solutions and reasons
Sink into the sand
Things just don’t turn out
The way they were planned.
Copyright 1990 Scott C. Forrest
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