Thirty years ago, how the words would flow With passion and precision But now his mind is dark and dulled By sickness and indecision And he stares out the kitchen door Where the sun will rise no more
Some are born to move the world To live their fantasies But most of us just dream about The things we'd like to be
Sadder still to watch it die Than never to have known it For you, the blind who once could see The bell tolls for thee