Ritter, Tod und Teufel

He glimpsed at the clock from his newspaper,
As she walked in with a smile splashed across her face.
He went to the balcony, lit up a cigarette and,
Looked far into the lights, until she meekly called,
"Dinner is ready", she whispered, with a soft touch
Sending fire inside him, the tip of his fourth glowed
In the darkness of the night, he replied hoarsely
"I'll be right there."

In the night, when she had curled into a ball,
He slowly dragged his unkempt frame to the mirror,
Stealing glances through sips of Jack Daniel,
Sometimes touching the bags under his eyes,
The stray hair on the face and chest, and his little potluck
Hard-earned through life, as the dent on his chair testified.
A little voice, groggy with sleep called out, he flinched,
And in the darkness of the night, he replied hoarsely,
"I'll be right there."

He slowly shaved and showered, the next morning,
He slowly dragged his clothes and placed them on his frame,
He took a few swigs of his coffee, and then drained the rest,
He heated some of the food from dinner, packed his own lunch,
Left the stove on, turned the lock slowly, and said hello to Rita
The motor roared, and he slowly disappeared, a black spot
In the distant horizon of whiteness.

He came back that night to see his abode on hell like flames,
The police found a scorched body in the bedroom, Rita tells her,
He cries, testifies to the police and slowly drives away into the night.
In the darkness of the night, he replies hoarsely,
"I'll be right there."