| An outcry
|
| To lost dreams and sense of wonder
|
| To the streets that raised him. |
| Say
|
| «Goodbye» to the hope for the home he’d been holding
|
| Say, «Goodbye» and «Be gone» and «Be great.»
|
| To the friends who left when they still could
|
| For the ones who chose to stay to waste away unplaced
|
| Alone, and pray
|
| To get out
|
| To grow old
|
| To grow strong and
|
| Leave this city, so familiar all it’s places
|
| All these memories turn each day more to gray
|
| More they space out till it’s once a year we’ll catch up, maybe less, or
|
| Else just daydreams while he’s working late
|
| Thinks only of those friends and when they left
|
| «Are we still friends at all, my friends?»
|
| Can I leave?
|
| Rewind and find a younger man
|
| All hopes and goals and dreams alight and
|
| Bright with friendship at the crossroads in the night
|
| «Now make a choice,» the city said
|
| We were barely twenty then, but
|
| While I swore it my allegiance
|
| They chose leaving, all my friends. |
| And
|
| Now it’s letters, maybe phone calls, that
|
| Come less and less each year
|
| All addressed with wives and children
|
| To the fool who chose to stay here
|
| And it hurts me to know I’m alone now
|
| And it’s worse when I know that I chose it
|
| Don’t make the same mistake as me
|
| Don’t make the same mistake
|
| And now my friends have all left. |
| Or it’s been me gone all along.
|
| I guess we all part one day and drop like leaves into The breeze.
|
| And ain’t it wild? |
| Ain’t it bitter? |
| (Didn't it carry you from me?
|
| ) But it’s the coping with my fear that keeps me Here. |
| See, once it’s gone you
|
| can’t retrieve it (Do I regret you? Can I forget you?) I still believe I might
|
| get left here. |
| I Might turn 63 still sweeping up the gutters in the street or
|
| weeding concrete. |
| Wait and see. |
| We’ll wait and see. |
| Or, rather, I will. |
| Only me
|
| Only me
|
| «Don't make the same mistake as me. |
| Say ‘Goodbye' and ‘Be gone' and ‘Be great'
|
| and be done and be free.» |