Sitting on a park bench.
Nowhere to be,
nobody to see.
No one to share,
no one to care.
All alone in this world.

All I have to do
to pass the time
is write another
postcard from my heart.
Send it to nobody in particular,
and hope it never arrives.

I do enjoy my own company.
I even talk to myself sometimes.
My thoughts come out loud,
confused in a crowd.
But I do get lonely,
I think I'm cracking up sometimes.

All I have to do
to pass the time
is write another
postcard from my heart.
Send it to nobody in particular,
and hope it never arrives.