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| The whispers of change They say the pen is Mightier then the sord Oh lord knows words from a friend will kill you in the end So why pretend You wake in a haze of yesterday's Not knowing if the wind will blow again Without family or friend Living and dying When your soul is dining On the flesh of yesterday's memories Of times or places of once was As the crow blows And knowing your rooster has passed along the wayside And your dog has moved a way Leaving for sunnier days And those prayers you uddered in your beer lastnight went in vain Wile sleeping in the rain Once a prominent man Now a has been Living in the old days of yesterday You dare ask God why When he is having the time of his life Playing in the games of life With his loving wife Now don't cry over the dead mans grave He ant dead yet But he is forgotten Because his mind has gone rotten Like a head of cabbage Left to long in the fields of yesterday's memories When times were good But in the wind who can pretend Even the mightiest will say The wind change on the best of days Even when you can count on them You can't And they will be like all your fair weather friends And leave you alone again Lost to time in the fields of yesterday's memories Like fine wine it could sour |
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