Razor once thought, when he was quite small,
there really should be a point to it all -
all that kerfuffle that made up his life,
but when he was older he took up a knife,
which shocked all his friends – not to mention his wife,
as none of them knew he was feeling that way
Last time they spoke he seemed… like… OK.
How could you have done it they asked in dismay,
though obviously Razor had nowt left to say,
while the coroner ruled in a voice most officious,
from what he could see there was nothing suspicious,
which meant at the Crem when they bid him goodbye
and the smoke from poor Razor rose into the sky,
not one of them knew or understood why.
And down by the river, with his dust finally scattered,
everyone felt that Razor had mattered,
except of course Razor whom you may recall,
once asked if there was a point to it all.