What about the next time and the time after the next time,
it's wearing thin like old Hubbard in the nursery rhyme,
and yet
only the dogs prosper throwing you the occasional bone

I'm going home
had my fill
going to choose
between the blue and red pill

or I'll end up choosing whiskey to wash me
clean,

upping sticks is one of those disappearing tricks
and I am famous for those,
moonlight flits,
yeah
them too.

too hot to argue and
and I'm too old to care.