Visiting Hours Are Over

And even words which once did flow So freely from this pen, Desert me now and fail to show The person I was then. This jubilee you came to see, The happy circus show, Packed up their tents, washed off their paint; Exposed, they had to go. They’ve left me here alone inside A broken house not mine. No more abide, sweet suicide; Complete your tender crime. It marches on as we all know, It stops for not a man. If I but could erase the past I would, and start again.