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Album: A Hundred Thousand Pennies
Track: #12
If this were the last song I ever wrote Of course I'd wonder why I'd have to think I died For these to be my last composed notes But if somehow I decided to stop I know I'd want a finale One final crying rally To make sure I summed everything up It'd surely be a letter to any future mes Advice I'd probably ignore Perspectives I'd abhor Antique thoughts I'd prefer not to unfreeze I already do that for my older songs Thought I was delightful Songs uncannily insightful And I would never admit I was wrong But I'd never try to convince myself More remind him who I became Or was in his today As I linger in his mind's bookshelf My ten year self I'd ask Did you make it out of debt? Is a song on the radio yet? Are you still wearing that mask? My twenty year self I'd query Have you travelled everywhere? Acted out on that despair? Have you resolved your lingering theories? My fourty year self I'd admire He's outlived a second me Hoping death isn't beckoning And still couldn't ever retire I'd delicately define my position Unlike this fleeting thought This unfiltered me I fought Writing this poorly executed rendition If it were my last song, it'd be epic But it isn't