written by Al Stewart

Linda was killed last Saturday about fifteen blocks from where she lives 
In a car crash, people gathered around the graveside, friends and relatives dressed in black 
Preacher mumblin' how she's bound to go to Heaven 
The service started at half-past ten, it was all over by eleven 
They say it's God's to give, and God's to take away, 
But why He happened to pick Linda on a Saturday night, no one could say. 
Maybe it's just one of those things 
One of those things 

They found the guy who did it, he had the lobotomy and the chicken eyes, 
And he gazed around the courtroom with a kind of vague surprise 
Reminded me of one of those Vikings with the long-handled swords 
The kind of guy that even Joan Baez would not feel non-violent towards 
Said he wasn't looking, maybe he had had a bit too much 
It was dark, it was raining, he didn't see the light or some such 
It was just one of those things 
One of those things 

I asked my local guru about the situation, he gave me this reply 
While pointing a bony finger up into the general direction of the sky: 
"Get on with your own life, it is not ours to reason why" 
Said he used to worry about it once when he was young 
Now he doesn't even bother to try 
He left me with a feeling that what he said was basically sound 
Like a black hole in space, or philosophy, useless but profound 
Just one of those things 
One of those things 

Tonight I'm gonna take myself down to my local cafe 
Gonna get smashed out of my mind, gonna waste myself away 
Gonna drink and drink and sink into that dark abyss 
I wanna be just like that Viking, I wanna know if ignorance is truly bliss. 
Linda's in the cold ground, won't see her anymore 
Somewhere out on the highway tonight, the drunken engines roar 
It's just one of those things, 
One of those things. 

Oh, just one of those things.