Queue = man on the bus

There's a man on the bus;
Sitting right in front of me;
Three children at his side.
He hugs each in turn,
Whispers each a special word.
Tears of loyalty and pride on his face.
Desperation and grief in his eyes.
No more lies.
He's a man ,they call him Dad.
His arms encircle his little lad.
His hand wipes away his tears.
And as they rise to go,
He throws a wink to let them know
He loves them.
And as they leave this man so dear;
Through fears and tears so sad,
They manage a smile of love
For this lonely man they call DAD.

Jaiijaii 1982