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letra de a saturday night - jamie lenman

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my old man died on a sat-rday night
i watched as he just stopped breathing
and though it was awful and painful and sad
i was glad that he wasn’t alone

it felt like something he’d just had to go through;
an arduous task he’d been given
and it seemed so unfair it was his cross to bear;
the sickest and weakest of us

oh, we never spoke much as a father and son
but we had an understanding
and i still hear his voice when i open my mouth;
in anger, or wisdom, or such

or if i see a similar jacket or hair
i think for a moment i’ve found him
but then i remember
it’s not about “where,”
and i know he’s not lost
he is gone
i’m just glad that he wasn’t alone

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