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.
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