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Fred Jones, Part 2
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Cake
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1
Ben*Folds Fred*
2
sits alone at his desk in the dark There's,
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an awkward young shadow who waits in the hall Yeah.
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he's, cleared all his things and he's put them in boxes Things;
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that remind him that life has been good Twenty-five.
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years he's, worked at the paper The,
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man's here to take him downstairs And;
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"I'm sorry Mr, Jones. it's, time" There
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was no party and, there were no songs 'cause,
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today's just a day like the day that he started And,
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no one is left here who knows his first name And,
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life barrels on like a runaway train Where
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the passengers change but, they don't change anything You
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get off someone else can get on And
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"I'm sorry Mr, Jones. it's, time" W/John
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*Mcrae Street*
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light shines through the shades Casting,
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lines on the floor and, lines on his face He
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reflects on the day Fred.
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gets his paints out and goes to the basement Projecting
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some slides Onto
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a plain white canvas And
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traces it fills, in the spaces He.
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turns off the slides and, it doesn't look right Yeah.
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and, all of these b s******have taken his place He's,
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forgotten but not yet gone And.
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"I'm sorry Mr, Jones. And...
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"I'm sorry Mr, Jones. And...
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"I'm sorry Mr, Jones. it's, time" Ben
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*Folds "John: Mcrae of Cake y'all",
Fred Jones, Pt. 2- Ben Folds
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