we used to walk in the canyon

talk of a future that never came

gasping at the beauty round us

Selina was one hell of a dame

 

its a movie playing in my head

just pictures without the sound

a neck-lace of images inside a

cold tomb on hallowed ground

 

called to New York for a movie

turned your head with ambition

left me doubting your standing

fearing you intended partition

 

heard rumours of your progress

saw your picture on the news

cried at men smug by your side

for even old fools get the blues

 

yes, you returned but in a box

Broadway a place of perdition

autopsy showed a cocktail to

mortify our county mortician

 

the movie story proved a myth

bright lights lit your confusion

I was merely a drug-store clerk

you sought stardoms illusion

 

your ashes rest by the Ohio river

weeping there provides no relief

I'm just an old fool with the blues

vainly trying to exorcise my grief