Life demanded of him a toughness
That he never really knew
With laughter he responded and made us all laugh too
Turning faces red with his eyes of blue
While at the plate, he swung his hardest,
Never a thought of bunting
Those swings gave us Mork & Mindy and later Good Will Hunting
While he began counting the days
We relished the quickness of his wit
Another fertile mind so adept at hiding
The pain he felt once the laughter quit
Was there peace to be found somewhere abiding
Did we pay a fair price to extract his treasure
As Doubtfire and Patch were bringing us pleasure
Was his mind adrift fighting demons unmeasured
Needing help to keep counting his days
We might catch in his eyes the slightest reveal
In that familiar transfer from frown to smile
His talents our hearts would easily steal
Standing before us with his own unique style
A beautiful man for us all to admire
But where was the hope that this life requires
Could he find it on covers of GQ or Esquire
Or had the dark begun sharing his days
From anonymity to unimaginable fame
We watched him rise like a fish out of water
Another new piece to be played in this game
Another new portrait perfecting our frame
But who would dare pause or shed a tear
For the road he was on was not one to fear
This great man in The Birdcage, our Man of the Year
Why should he be counting his days
Those closest to him surely have seen
And have known by his words how fragile his heart
But fragile hearts can sometimes be mean
When facing a world set to tear them apart
Depression it rises like a flame in the dark
With a vice-like grip it can cling to a heart
Equipped with surprises to forestall a new start
Like whips and chains it can leave a big mark
And the darkness takes over the days
But in a hidden moment so unexpected
With no hint of pomp or circumstance
All hope disappeared and he was left dejected
Like so many before him this was his last dance
To escape this pain he took this chance
And in a silent, yet violent, and misguided surrender
He showed us his heart was never more tender
And concluded the counting of his days
So often this surrender can be slow, not sudden
With drinks, smokes, and pills used to push broken buttons
But the knowledge it leaves behind is the same
And we've come to know this disease by it's name
And to know that the counting does not end with this act
But goes on in the tears over years filled with blame
In the hearts of our friends and a strange sense of shame
For when our brothers and sisters stumble and fall
Famous or unknown, it affects us all
The worst kind of reminder to love life, shine or rain
Seek strength in our God and unmask our own pain
And to go on counting our days
