| Say goodnight
|
| Your song is through
|
| Faint refrain
|
| We hardly knew
|
| Comes crashing against the drunken waters
|
| Of this wake, when I hesitate
|
| Because all I can say
|
| Is too much or too little too late
|
| Farewell
|
| You fool
|
| Spare me the punchline please
|
| I learned it well at Sunday school
|
| Way back when all you loved was the greasepaint
|
| Not the collection plate, so much for the funny face
|
| Because all I can say
|
| Is too much or too little too late
|
| Remember when murder was only killing time?
|
| (La, la, la)
|
| And an axe to grind was a bitter gulp of strychnine
|
| (To grind, to grind)
|
| What happened to the Musketeers of Chesterfields?
|
| (Chesterfields, ooh)
|
| Tobacco swords behind smokey shields
|
| (Smokey shields, smokey shields)
|
| Say goodnight (Goodnight), old song (So long)
|
| You’re through (Set the needle back and hum a new tune)
|
| Faint refrain (Refrain), and make room (So soon)
|
| For new (Until the hook can pull the bridge into view)
|
| But spare me the vague and not-so-clever couplets
|
| The ones I would’ve loved when I was you
|
| 'Cause, now all I can say
|
| Is too much or too little
|
| And all I can feel
|
| Feels like the heaviest weight
|
| 'Cause, all I can say
|
| Is too much or too little too late |