letra de man in the restaurant - bill saunders
he’s stone cold sober, he walks in quite alone
diners raise their gazes, his head tilts to check his phone
takes a table in the corner, pulls his chair in tight
he catches no one’s eyes stares out the window, into the black of night
the man in the restaurant, his story may never be told
the man in the restaurant, someone ran off with his soul
behind his fixed smile he looks like he’s dying inside
he fights off the memories, pretending he’s nothing to hide
a foreign waitress politely asks “sir, will you be dining tonight”?
he orders from the a la carte and a single gl-ss of white wine
he’s still, he waits and a circle of tension weaves around his table
inside his head’s exploding with his thoughts, he’d run if he felt able
without warning he jumps to his feet, storms past discerning diners
demands to see the maitre d’, though the food could not be finer
arms are raised in front of blood shot face “sir, are you alright”?
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