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The Jet Age
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Who Will I Sing This Song For?
In the days of wine and roses I had the hair and I struck the poses—I laid the maidens 1-2-3. It seemed the light was always golden—my tales were always bold and I knew one day I'd sing them for you. In the time of the apple's falling, heeded a voice that I heard calling; turns out Eden's full of treacherous con men (and temptation's a bitter fruit). I got more than I bargained：a shooting star that missed the target; followed it, led me away from you. In the winter of my discontent—my eyes dim and my body spent—I wrote myself this sad lament. Cast adrift for an unknown shore, who will I sing this song for? Where did the time go? Did it go with you?
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