Patsy

Before my fame, I only thought of you, and how you slaved, shadows climb in blue smoke, contain an awful truth, shocked again I'm broke, you always hated waste, played successful tunes, now another age, longing for a happy home, I look down red lit rooms, stripped to the bone, inside class cafe's, I could have bloomed, singing night and day, holding to the simple notes, could have soothed, those who felt left alaone, to begin again, is hardly news, these outside dreams, relate our feuds