I chronicle in rhythm and rhyme, Scribbling, jotting, imaging the times: I dug down to Lucy, And China's Great Wall, Compared Viking raids with personal tirades; Asked God questions, questioned Jeff Sessions, And all of that where-with-all. I've called wrong out, and written about Our scandals, all fancy or true; I've offered you solace, Even opened my wallet, And grieved when it was due. I've been self-righteous, And sometimes right selfless, When parsing my love for you. But now it should end, I've less left to send, And so love I bid, Adieu.