It's like going to a cocktail party, she said
This life
And some drink too many cocktails
Some pick up a needle and spoon
Or overdose on a few too many pills
They approach the host or hostess
And thank them for the lovely time had
But they know in their hearts it is time to go....
And that is all it is, she said, this leaving.
No judgement, no right or wrong
No guilt for the wailing of the bereaved
It is a simple leaving, to go onto the next thing.
I am forever making a French exit from parties
Sneaking out the front door when the festivities
Are in full swing, but I do not want to leave
My life this way.
I have friends who have, who are gone now.
I think of them often, and I think of her.
The huge heart, the quick to tears, the patient
Trudging from one day to the next, vodka in hand.
I think of life as a bus with all of us its passengers
You never know who is going to pull down the cable
To alert the driver that their stop is approaching
I don't want anyone that I love getting off before I do
Or exiting the party, in French fashion or not
I cannot judge my friends who have chosen to go
Before me, she assures me of this, strident in tone
And I do not, judge that is, but still it pains me.
There are so many ways to fall, and as the song
Says, it's funny how falling feels like flying
For a little while.
Some choose to really fly, to fly away
But I want you, friend, here with me
And before I go, I promise to say goodbye
And not simply slip from your good graces.
This life
And some drink too many cocktails
Some pick up a needle and spoon
Or overdose on a few too many pills
They approach the host or hostess
And thank them for the lovely time had
But they know in their hearts it is time to go....
And that is all it is, she said, this leaving.
No judgement, no right or wrong
No guilt for the wailing of the bereaved
It is a simple leaving, to go onto the next thing.
I am forever making a French exit from parties
Sneaking out the front door when the festivities
Are in full swing, but I do not want to leave
My life this way.
I have friends who have, who are gone now.
I think of them often, and I think of her.
The huge heart, the quick to tears, the patient
Trudging from one day to the next, vodka in hand.
I think of life as a bus with all of us its passengers
You never know who is going to pull down the cable
To alert the driver that their stop is approaching
I don't want anyone that I love getting off before I do
Or exiting the party, in French fashion or not
I cannot judge my friends who have chosen to go
Before me, she assures me of this, strident in tone
And I do not, judge that is, but still it pains me.
There are so many ways to fall, and as the song
Says, it's funny how falling feels like flying
For a little while.
Some choose to really fly, to fly away
But I want you, friend, here with me
And before I go, I promise to say goodbye
And not simply slip from your good graces.
