There was a time, not so many years ago
I had so much to say that I just didn't know
How best to phrase it or where to begin
I had to get down to the root, to the essence within
But words were such a struggle and clarity a chore
And my education failed me when I sought to say more
Than a working class lad can be expected to say
I tried to nail the truth and not let it get away
And so it always went, I'd refine my testament
Make it clearer, make it sharper, say exactly what I meant
And who ever thought the inkwell would run dry?
That the words wouldn't fail me but the motive might die
Is this how it goes? Getting jaded, getting old
Can't bring myself to speak all the wisdom that I hold
So much time and effort just to try and understand
And now I find I've nothing more to say