It used to be nice
But I'm no longer
Trapped inside
In the fickle mind of mine

I'm so alone
Someone, please, save me
Before I eat myself
To the bones and go crazy

Nothing to hand out
left empty and dry
the drought of life has set in
the crops--how they die!

Whatever that's planted
has brought but despair and sigh
supplication shall not be answered
as the locusts in droves fly by.

Lately
life seems
like a waking
dream
and I’ve been
sleeping
my days away
awakening
to a sundown
setting in
my window
and there’s
this feeling
in the air
so real, surreal
a real sundowner.

Rock and roll is here to stay
Join Bing in a Gang Song Sing Along in September, 1961

Try to remember that kind of September.

Now, waken in March, 2020.
Look around

This is the future of then.