The paper called it suicide
A bullet from a 45
Nobody cared and nobody cried
Don't that make you feel sad

Peter Brent combed his hair, then sent
For the police
Policeman came, took Peter's name
God may he rest in peace
No-one saw the note beside the body
No-one knew the problem but my God

The body remains unidentified
Forgotten in a file
Like the letter that was blown aside
Don't that make you want to smile
No-one was really satisfied
About number 81
The autopsy proved Peter lied
But they could never find the gun