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> Poetry & Prose > Poetry & Prose Online > Claire O Connell > By The Band

By The Band


When did the music stop playing,
can you still remember it's song,
and where did the magic go too,
did you know it would go all along.

The whiskey is half drunken,
a bottle to go,
how can you live this life,
numbing the pain so.

And what of the people dancing,
they now by chairs do sit,
talking about the good times,
saying they are well missed.

Can you remember the keys,
to the songs you used to play,
there is a coffin in the funeral home,
where the past has died away.

Look back at old photos,
remember you used to smile,
the tears of laughter,
now replaced with cries of worsen times.

And someday may the music play again,
I wait for it while it rains,
and remember the time we were alive,
when things were happy for a while.

And hence alas the sadness,
the way things used to be,
there is a photo by the band,
but tis now too worn to see.


> Poetry & Prose > Poetry & Prose Online > Claire O Connell > By The Band
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