I grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says Elliot I grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says Elliot
days keep growing short, nights too let us go then, you and I and try to unlearn, says Elliot he seeks for return and burns ancient love letters
let us go then you and I and lie by marble stone says Elliot and put a record on the gramophone Lie down dear on the weed Don't weep dear gayly clad sadness is a radical quantity says Elliot sadness is a long brown ribbon, says he sadness is beautiful
I grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says Elliot I grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says Elliot