A Series of Repetitions
I will be an old man sometime
And live in a dive somewhere.
I will think of this night some place
the rain falling on stone.
There will be no one near
no whisper on the street,
only this song of old longing
the plaintive yearning to be young
and you together on some street.
Now is the time of dark retreat
from drugs, desire, dance.
This is the last chance.
This is not the last chance.
I shall be young again.
Why, only yesterday I lay drugged
on the dark bed through two days,
