A gravestone worn with age and wind
Leans toward the west
A monument for what’s his name
Who used to be the best.
Those who knew him stood and wept
As they watched his final show,
But after this performance
There’s no place left to go.
Will they come back to see him now
as a friend without a stage?
Or simply write of what he did
on a torn and yellowed page.
The entertainer made us laugh
He put music in their head
But nothing fades like the memory
Of a man whose show is dead.