In the dark, scotch in hand
Muscle memory
Memory muscle
The freedom of age
Freedom from youth
Freedom from immortal fantasy
Freedom from whispers in trees
You know the names on the tombs
And they remember you
This has a finish and there
Is a peace in that.
No tears here
I saw the maps in my youth
Nights alone in the dark
Hands of the old
Hands of the new
Hands of those to come
And I know
This has not been wasted time