Man on the bridge

Late one night upon a bridge,
An old man filled with doubt,
Stood lonesome and cold, In his grey overcoat,
For his wife had messed him about.

As he neared the edge,
And thought of his life,
He knew what to do, To get rid of this pain,
And to really get back at his wife.

He bent both of his knees, Pushed away with his legs,
And leapt in the dark of the night,
He fell towards the floor, Now he's no more,
For he hit the road from such a height.

The blood covered cars, as the slammed on their brakes,
And swerved to avoid the old man,
The brains on the floor, And the guts even more,
Goodbye to our dear neighbor Stan.