I didn't think you
could make me feel any
smaller old friend
but as you near your end
I want to hang up my lute
They ought to clip
a few of mine to
add to yours
no trips, no wars
no harp lyre or flute
So I never had the touch
or worked hard enough
and if there's any such
thing as the tower
your place is ten thousand
above mine
and I just can't imagine
I who'll never slay the dragon
will see many heads nodding
When I sing
my own decline
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