Les Wirth

Christmas came and went,
all your money spent
on whisky for the common cold,
you feel it in your bones you’re growing old.
Last night in the park,
singin’in the dark,
«Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,
that saved a wretch, that saved a wretch like me.»
Had your day in sixty-three,
kissed a girl by the choppin’tree.
Yesterday she turned fifty-three somewhere,
somewhere,
somewhere.