Yesterday when I was young, the taste of life was sweet as rain upon my tongue. I teased at life as if it were a foolish game, the way the evening breeze may tease a candle flame. The thousand dreams I dreamed, splendid things I planned, I always built to last on weak and shifting sand. I lived by night and shunned the naked light of day, and only now I see how the years run away. Yesterday when I was young, so many happy songs were waiting to be sung. So many wild pleasures lay in store for me and so much pain my dazzled eyes refused to see. I ran so fast that time and me at last ran out. I never stopped to think what life was all about and every conversation I can now recall concerns itself with me and nothing else at all. Yesterday the moon was blue and every crazy day brought something new to do. I used my magic age as if it were a wand and never saw or noticed the emptiness beyond. The game of love I played with arrogance and pride and every flame I lit too quickly, quickly died. The friends I made all seemed somehow to drift away and only I'm left on stage to end the play. There are so many songs in me that won't be sung. I feel the bitter taste of tears upon my tongue. The time has come for me to pay for yesterday when I was young.
