twelve years dead before i hung your picture
never got the tat maybe in the future
old neil and jack bein beatniks out in denver
no dates or text just the image of their friendship
sing la la-la-la-la-la
your face is sad it's late you're fourty-two
sitting your mother's chair it's unique it looks like you
in all your other photos you're posing or you're smiling
here you're looking pensive as if round the bends you're dying
sing la la-la-la-la-la
it was just the whiskey and the feeling that it's hopeless
long nights of bachelorhood their endless years of service
no one here thinks whiskey or bachelorhood are murderers
'cause no one here knows anything until their in their forties
sing la la-la-la-la-la
your sad face younger than mine
marriage keeps me busy liquor takes its time
i miss you desperately clambering through your ruins
it weird when i catch myself wondering how you're doing
sing la