At Thirty, the Party Is Over
Of course I know
That I liked the activists rather than activism
That I liked the boozing atmosphere than the booze itself
And that I enjoyed not the protest song starting with Oh
but the love songs hummed in a low voice
but why on earth does it matter.
The party is over.
The booze's run out and although everyone has collected their wallets
and at last he's also left but
although the bill's been sorted out and everybody's fled
in their shoes
but vaguely I know that
there will be someone remaining here all alone
cleaning up the table for the taverner
remembering every bit and shedding hot tears
that somebody will start with correction the song he's
perhaps I know
that somebody instead of him will set up a table and before the dawn
get the people together again
will put on all the lights and refurbish the stage.
But why on earth does it matter?