I'm looking in my little black book
to see if I was right or rongwrong
Between the lines on the tattered pages
my spidery writing inclines
I'm old before my time
I feel that I'm growing out of this world
But with the world at my ears
I guess it's true there's no tears
no tears
When things get bad
I can always turn into a cloud
Then I'll drift back home
if the wind will blow me there