Fred Jones, Part 2

... maybe this would be it, from Ben Folds. (Don't know why I haven't heard this until now, especially since we've been rockin the suburbs for years.)



Fred sits alone at his desk in the dark

There's an awkward young shadow that waits in the hall

He's cleared all his things and he's put them in boxes

Things that remind him: 'Life has been good'

Twenty-five years

He's worked at the paper

A man's here to take him downstairs

And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones

It's time



There was no party, there were no songs

'Cause today's just a day like the day that he started

No one is left here that knows his first name

And life barrels on like a runaway train

Where the passengers change

They…