Matter of Convenience

He was the sad man of the town.
And they all spoke of him.
Some said
He was really down,
Some that, he was dim.
He had a nice face,
With dazed eyes
That spoke
Of different tastes.
Of hidden vice.

She was just another girl.
She walked to him and asked,
'Hey i ve heard about you...
That u r the saddest of
The men around.
The darkest creep
That walks this ground.
With a face so naive,
And eyes so lost,
How come so grave?
From where this frost?'

'Its all true, girl.
I am all that.
But i bother none
Least you of all.
I m just up to my job
And i go my way
I am no trouble
At the end of the day.
If i look sad, just lemme be,
I was born to be, I was born like this.'

And he walks away,
As they always saw him do.
With his radio on
And his hair, grey.
The girl stood looking,
She wasn't used to this -
If she asked a question,
None could give her a miss.

'I guess, he is just a fake.
It must be some
Kinda fashion.
Nobody ever lives with a constant ache
As if it were a passion.'
The next day, it was in the news,
The sad man aint really sad
Its just a matter if convenience,
To live like that,
May be, he thinks it's
Cool to be like that.