There is never a stir.
There is nothing to try.
Nothing more to occur.
Nothing more than a sigh.

There is never a murmur
From the silent telephone
Among the dead and the dying
In Boca Raton.

There's a clock  on the wall.
No one walks down the hall.
There's a pall that descends
As the episode ends.

There's an air of despair
And you're there all alone
Among the dead and the dying
In Boca Raton.

So farewell to resolve!
Dismantle the dreams!
No more problems to solve!
No more plans!  No more schemes!

As impenetrable darkness descends
We know what this omen portends --

Simply some sobbing,
Some crying -- and we moan
As we join the dead and the dying
In Boca Raton.