Music for Sunday

 This is one goes out to Ginger, who recently referred to the T.S. Eliot poem.
With love.  

For I have known them all already, known them all:— Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,         50 I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room.   So how should I presume?

For the entire T.S. Eliot poem The Love Song of J.A. Prufrock, click here

What is it that makes me just a little bit queasy?

Theres a breeze that makes my breathing not so easy
Ive had my lungs checked out with X rays
Ive smelled the hospital hallways

Someday Ill have a disappearing hairline
Someday Ill wear pyjamas in the daytime

Times when the day is like a play by Sartre
When it seems a bookburnings in perfect order
I gave the doctor my description
Ive tried to stick my prescriptions

Someday Ill have a disappearing hairline
Someday Ill wear pyjamas in the daytime

Afternoons will be measured out
Measured out, measured with
Coffeespoons and T.S. Eliot

Maybe if I could do a play-by playback
I could change the test results that I will get back
Ive watched the summer evenings pass by
Ive heard the rattle in my bronchi...

Someday Ill have a disappearing hairline
Someday Ill wear pyjamas in the daytime

Afternoons will be measured out
Measured out, measured with
Coffeespoons and T.S. Eliot (2x)