歌词
(Verse 1)
In the corner of the world, where shadows tend to fall,
Lives a man named Tom, standing barely five feet tall.
With his weary eyes and a soul that's worn and frayed,
He walks alone through life's relentless charade.
His days are spent in agony and strife,
Irritable Bowel Syndrome, a cruel twist of life.
But in the haze of smoke, he finds his fleeting peace,
Weed in hand, his troubles seem to cease.
(Chorus)
Oh, Tom, with your half-pints of ale,
And the sadness that your heart inhales.
In a world too big, you're a man so small,
Lost in the echoes of a forgotten call.
(Verse 2)
Thirty-five percent of his time confined,
To a porcelain throne, his solace intertwined.
In the quiet of the bathroom's lonely space,
He contemplates his life's relentless pace.
His pockets empty, his dreams all but gone,
He finds solace in the melodies of songs.
With outdated instruments, he tries to find his tune,
In a world that seems to leave him marooned.
(Chorus)
Oh, Tom, with your half-pints of ale,
And the sadness that your heart inhales.
In a world too big, you're a man so small,
Lost in the echoes of a forgotten call.
(Bridge)
With every note he plays, a tear may fall,
Echoes of sadness in the lonely hall.
But still, he strums his guitar, his voice a whispering plea,
Hoping someday, someone might see.
(Verse 3)
So here's to Tom, in his quiet despair,
A silent prayer drifting through the air.
May he find the strength to carry on,
Until the darkness fades and the light of hope is drawn.
(Chorus)
Oh, Tom, with your half-pints of ale,
And the sadness that your heart inhales.
In a world too big, you're a man so small,
Lost in the echoes of a forgotten call.
(Outro)
But even in the depths of his lonely plight,
Tom finds solace in the music of the night.
A soul adrift, yet somehow free,
In the haunting melody of his silent plea.
