Fred Jones Pt 2 — текст песни (ben folds five)

Fred sits alone at his desk in the dark

Theres an awkward young shadow that waits in the hall

Hes cleared all his things and hes put them in boxes

Things that remind him: life has been good



Twenty-five years

Hes worked at the paper

A mans here to take him downstairs

And Im sorry, mr. jones

Its time



There was no party, there were no songs

cause todays just a day like the day that he started

Noone is left here that knows his first name

And life barrels on like a runaway train

Where the passengers change

They dont change anything

You get off; someone else can get on



And Im sorry, mr. jones

Its time



Streetlight shines through the shades

Casting lines on the floor, and lines on his face

He reflects on the day



Fred gets his paints out and goes to the basement

Projecting some slides onto a plain white

Canvas and traces it

Fills in the spaces

He turns off the slides, and it doesnt look right

Yeah, and all of these bastards

Have taken his place

Hes forgotten but not yet gone



And Im sorry, mr. jones

And Im sorry, mr. jones

And Im sorry, mr. jones

Its time