The Unknown
He spends his days on the couch
A whiskey bottle in his hand
His stomach a great big pouch
This is not how his life was planned
He sits and drinks alone
The bottle his only friend
He's drunk down to the bone
And doesn't plan to end
People think he's a bum
No family, no friends, no job
With clothes covered in crumbs
He is the epitome of a slob
They don't know what he's seen
Or the friends he has lost
On his past they aren't to keen
They don't know he's payed the cost
They don't know how he became a zero
He's alone with his loss and pain
For he is a hero
And no one knows his name
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