And the whisper of tides keep rolling
That makes the engine hardly slowing
In a growing pain of knowing
For all elephants have gone blind.
In an innocent game she was glowing
Until a judge became the one blowing
Lost in depths of spiraling
The end was all she could find.
Then all at once there came a calling
An old standard with sweet beckoning
With wallets that were fattening
Only hygiene long left behind.
So the two and their sweet romancing
Called the pastor who came running
He knew what was then demanding
No opposition of any kind.
And like buskers at the happening
They all packed up and left no remembering
A lot like old elephants fattening
No story left on each their mind.