I grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says Elliot
I grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says Elliot
days keep growing short, nights too
let us go then, you and I
and try to unlearn, says Elliot
he seeks for return and burns ancient love letters
let us go then you and I and lie by marble stone says Elliot
and put a record on the gramophone
Lie down dear
on the weed
Don't weep dear
gayly clad
sadness is a radical quantity says Elliot
sadness is a long brown ribbon, says he
sadness is beautiful
I grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says Elliot
I grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says Elliot