Frail are my fingers
As I trip through these lines
Wicked prose of strange and real
These books I've read a thousand times
New blood runs slow
The artery turned blue
The bards have danced the last dance
As have I an expatriate muse
The bell comes ringing from behind the bar
Crooners crow and they all sing along
Troubadours must always die alone
Make my bed, I'm coming, coming home
Days keep time by dust
Bury filigree and lace
The fuel is gone in the gaslight
And I'm dying here in a dying place
The bell comes ringing from behind the bar
Crooners crow and they all sing along
Troubadours must always die alone
Make my bed, I'm coming, coming home
Last song
Last call
And last dance
Last song
Last call
And last chance
Last song
Last call
And last dance
Last song
Last call
And last chance
Frail are my fingers
As I slip through these lines
Wicked songs of strange and real
These words I've sung a thousand times
The bell comes ringing from behind the bar
Crooners crow and they all sing along
Troubadours must always die alone
Make my bed, I'm coming, coming home
Last song
Last call
And last dance
Last song
Last call
And last chance
Last song
Last call
And last dance
Last song
Last call
And last chance
Last song
Last call
And last dance
Last song
Last call
And last chance
Last song
Last call
And last dance
Last song
Last call
And last chance