Visit me when my body is wrinkled and cracked.
When my voice can no longer carry a tune,
my fingers can no longer pluck these strings,
and my mind fumbles with my words.

Would you stand by my bedside
and play this game of nostalgia with me?
We can recall the nights spent
outside of that hall, burning our pipes
and drawing our lives out of the smoke.

Will you realize
that no one belongs here more than you?