Clich

Sunset over the high-rise,

By a motorway,

A little man looks up at the sky.

An uneventful end to a wasted day.

Close-up on the man at the window,

Looking at the street down below.

It's obvious he's got things on his mind.

He shakes his head, pulls down the blind.



He start's writing a letter,

To make it perfectly clear.

He's just a man who's reached the end of his rope,

Expressing his doubts and his fears.

In a world, feels so lonely and afraid,

Disillusioned by the promises they made,

It's a pity that it ended up this way,

Life is just a clich