He is alone.
But he’s not insane.

He’s the smartest one of all.
The one who lost his brain.

He never has to worry.
He never has to think.

All day long he sits around.
And all he does is drink.

The alcohol became his potion.
He never had to have a notion.

All he did was vegetate.
And it always kept a constant rate…
That parts not so great.

All he did was sit and wait.
For what he knew would be his fate.

Before he knew.
That he was through…
He was dead.

Theres nothing left of what he said.
He is only a memory.

Too you he may be a fool.
But his life is my golden rule.

He didn’t worry.
He did not fret…
So he died without regret.