How nice to fade into the sunset
And leave behind all earthly cares
And work-related headaches
Which, on second thoughts,
Wouldn't be such a good idea after all
If sunrise brought it all back, Jack.
How nice to melt into the wind
And shed the mantle of human toil and suffering
That's worn like a second skin
Since the day you were born,
In my case,
Fifty-three weather-beaten years ago, Jo.