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