The eras end with wrecking balls,
And eyes so dark they look like fights.
Just try and touch those stars again:
You know you’re made of light and dust.
If peace and love are sold as slaves,
And aesthetes all have broken hearts,
Then all that’s left is rain and pills,
Those rapid fading hopes and dreams.
So take your wine to Camberwell,
And walk your wolves to Primrose Hill,
And join the ghosts at Camden Lock:
It had to crash, it rose too high.
You face two ways when made to lose:
Regret the end, embrace the fall.
response to the film Withnail and I