One day all this will end.

And what will happen then?

Will we all be happy-clappy,

Clowning in the squares

And clinking glasses?

 

Or will we just blunder on

And fill up empty bar stools;

Reminiscing, telling lies,

About the good old days?

 

It’s no future, they’ll say.

But at least it’s a past,

And right now the past

Is far less painful.

 

In the end it’s all luck;

I dodged one and you copped it.

Afterwards, no one need know.