It was the heat and the booze that threw me,
And in the hush of his orbit, he knew me.
With a whisper of soul and a shadow of sin
the End prepared itself to begin.
The End was trusted, steadfast, strong
His voice rang silent, clear and long
like summer bells in vocal flight
or stars at noon and lunch at night.
The summer floods sent torrential pain
And the thunder clapped to watch again.
The End observed but did not flinch
the face of love, when its cheek he pinched.
And just as End had knew he would,
The Final Curtain came down good
to shroud the sorry little show
of life and love and all we know.