Fred Jones Part 2 - Ben Folds

fred sits alone at his desk in the dark 
there's an awkward young shadow that waits in the hall

he has packed all his things 
and he's put them in boxes 
things that remind him that 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 and there were no songs 
cause today's just a day like the day that he started 
and no one is left here that knows his first name 
yeah, and life barrels on like a runaway train 
where the passengers change 
they don't change anything 
you get off 
someone else can get on 
and i'm sorry mr jones, it's time 

the streetlight it shines through the haze 
casting lines on the floor 
and lines on his face 
he reflects on the day... 

fred gets his paints out and goes to the basement 
projecting some slides onto a plain white canvas
and traces it 
fills in the spaces 
he turns off the slides 
and it doesn't look right 
yeah, and all of these bastards have taken his place 
he's forgotten but not yet gone 
and i'm sorry mr jones 
and i'm sorry mr jones 
and i'm sorry mr jones, it's time