I worry that I will never See Paris in the rain I’m afraid that I can never Love New York again I fret that my feet Will never again roam in Rome I lament that in London Big Ben will chime alone My heart cries for the ones Slowly losing their breath My thoughts hover over Those dying a lonely death The ones whose families Can’t even say goodbye The ones who are left looking At the sky, asking why It’s hard enough to grieve For the ones who are gone It’s even harder for those Left here to live, forlorn With the world at a standstill There's nothing left to do No jobs, no money Nothing to look forward to I can count my blessings I’m luckier than most My ticker’s still ticking It hasn’t given up the ghost I have a roof over my head My loved ones near me But try as I might I can’t escape this anxiety John Prine once sang That he had the key That helped him escape From his harsh reality Well he’s not with us any more One of so many who are gone And I’m left here, staring At this horrible black swan