Dull days and broken nights
Since I closed fancy’s door,
A heart that never races,
And rhyme that just won’t soar.
Fancy took me places
That pragmatism can’t.
It’s more fun to be capricious
Than to be a sweet, sane saint.
Wild and wanton wilful ways,
Extravagance of living,
Loving life, loving love,
Unbounded optimism;
All these things I had.
I’ll have them all again
If once more I fall in love.
I’ll soar to heaven then.
I’ll dance among the clouds,
And sing my loved one’s praises,
Instead of trying to recall