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Horse Feathers
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So Long
It was I,
Poor as a baby and twice the fool,
feral and rude,
the song that I sing,
it is a tune in the key of,
a young man with means.
It was I,
Bothered to witness,
and pained to see,
wIth two failing knees,
well into her age,
every morning my Grandmother,
would work for a wage.
It's a cold blooded tale,
here's the last coffin nail. . .
So long to a life carefree,
It's passing by with each year or three,
I'll call it aloud,
I'll call it by name,
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the young and the vain,
they are one and the same.
It was I,
Weathered, and battered,
and compromised.
Dull in the eyes.
The song that I sung,
it is the melody of one who longs to be young.
It's a cold blooded tale,
here's the last coffin nail. . .
So long to a life carefree,
It's passing by with each year or three,
I'll call it aloud,
I'll call it by name,
Beauty and loss,
they are one and the same.
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