Who are these who know themselves?
No apologies, no regrets.
I know myself less the older I get
Apologies and regrets, they are my epaulets.
They are my epaulets.

The memory is unkind to me.
Life seems to dream itself by.
I’ve waited so long to be waiting here still.
As the sun goes down behind the hill
In Girlsville
In Girlsville.
The sun goes down on Girlsville.
The  sun goes down on Girlsville