You live like you're afraid to die You'll die like you're afraid to go --- We build our house of cards  and then we wait for it to fall Always forget how strange it is just to be alive at all

"Avant Garde? French for Bullshit" Said John. A few years passed and John and his better half were promenating in pretty deep bullshit "Why she had to go, I don't know? She wouldn't say" Said Paul. John heard "Coming Up" and quit baking bread in order to return to the recording studios. Then just a breath later, moonlight shadow and he was shot. Paul wrote several silly love songs, and Yes, "Silly Love songs". "The only thing you done was Yesterday" Said John. They did their best work in their 20's Now it's the 20's once more, is this our best work?

These are the words of another Dick Gaughan Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns Bring autumn's pleasant weather The moorcock springs on whirring wings Among the blooming heather Now waving grain, wild o'er the plain Delights the weary farmer And the moon shines bright as I rove at night To muse upon my charmer The partridge loves the fruitful fells The plover loves the mountain The woodcock haunts the lonely dells The soaring hern the fountain Through lofty groves the cushat roves The path of man to shun it The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush The spreading thorn the linnet Thus every kind their pleasure find The savage and the tender Some social join and leagues combine Some solitary wander Avaunt! Away! the cruel sway, Tyrannic man's dominion The sportsman's joy, the murdering cry The fluttering, gory pinion But Peggy dear the evening's clear Thick flies the skimming swallow The sky is blue, the fields in view  All fading green and yellow Come let us stray

  Now you're telling me,  you're not nostalgic Then give me another word for it Once upon a time there was a lot of gaiety in William's life Most his days were frolic and bright But those days were gone Now he was a man of old age with a heart filled with cynicism He used to be optimistic But the rough paths life had taken him on had made him cynical He used to love and be loved Laugh and be laughed at Drink and be drunk with Teach and be taught He used to do everything that a human soul needed to be spirited and nourished However these days he'd scorn and be scorned at His soul he had sold Though it was not too late for change He wanted to be frolic again So his medicine was to dwell on nostalgic feelings and tunes of the good old times And that he did until the day he died