It's the same train
From the same station;
It's the same train
With the same destination.
But how strange the atmosphere
Since the one I loved is no longer here.

There's an empty seat on the 8:15
And how different the world appears;
There's an empty seat next to me today
For the first time in thirteen years.
How strange
Not to have him by my side
Speaking not a word
Throughout the daily ride.
How strange
Not to fear that I might cough
Or move or make a sound
Until we both got off.
He would always sit by the window seat---
He would not look out, he'd just read,
And he'd still insist on the window seat,
And for thirteen years, I'd concede.
How strange
Not to have the morning news
Standing by my side,
Concealing all the views---
And he was just the same
At home as he was on trains---
Defying him was a mortal sin.
There's an empty seat on the 8:15
And later on today
I'm sure they'll find his remains
In the plastic bag I put them in.
 

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