Am singing this song to myself alone-
Alone and alone and alone
In my bed of comfort and relaxation
Though filled with thorns and tears
But they make it sweet.

This song of mine to a sucking baby you must not sing
For he sings it in the absence of the mother
When hunger reminds him of the lyrics
It’s a tough song left for men with hairy chest
Oh it’s an everyday song that the living sings
And it’s my song.

In the road we sing it with hope
In the hospital we sing it in pain
In the office we sing it in stress
In the mortuary they sing with faith
It’s an everyday song that the living sings
And it’s my song.

This song of mine I had recited many times
When in the hand of the nagging boss I remember
When I wanted to die I remember
For it’s an everyday song, that grips the earth
Its life song
And it’s my song.