big orange rising moon
Like a macaroon
Comes shining down on London town tonight
And the dry leaves flow,
And the west wind whispers where to go,
And the summertime hits an all-time low.
One sleepless buffoon,
Scribbling this tune,
Feels like a sneeze tonight
Might well set this whole old world alight.
In this work youre
Dust to dust inspired,
And dream seems to hold the upper hand,
And youll come to grief
Like a thief, in brief, if you keep belief
When not to would be a real relief.
But, chief, though Im tired,
I hope Im required
And Ill wait to get hired,
Though you cant find a rubber band
That works right in this troubled land.