Stable Song

Time for the final bow,
Rows of deserted houses,
All our stable mates highway bound.

Give us our measly sum;
Getting the air inside my lungs is heavenly,
Starting out, with nothing but crippling doubt.

We'll rest easy justified.

Suffered a swift defeat,
I’ll endure countless repeats,
The gift of memory is an awful curse,
With age it just gets much worse,
But I won't mind
I won't mind
I won't mind
I won't mind