And old time writer Drinking the night away It???s been years since the voices have been heard Only voices jack and caption Morgan Pacing back and fourth, trying to get the mind going Tapping a pen, hoping something might spill out Filling up the glass, another round of rum Seems to be the only thing that???s working Where does it all go All the fame and magic One day ideas flowing Now all but gone forever, All that was great, lost forever Nothing to go on but the past Trying to become what he was No way out, he is what he has become Staring in the mirror, and image frozen in time Not sure if it was yesterday or today What has become of that great young writer? Surely this old man staring back can't be me Looking at an old time picture The ghost of his youth laughing Trying to capture that laughter now Only a sigh and a tear can be heard now Sitting in the dark, eyes wide open Waiting, waiting, always waiting, For his muse that has gone missing Trying to communicate to something, other than this world All his thoughts wondering Of what is and is not Nothing coming or going Is there some place other than here All night long sitting in a stupor The hours going faster and faster Nothing to prove or to show Blank pages taunting and laughing Night turning today, day to turning to night The day dreams turning into nightmares The cycle of madness never ending Every day starting over and over Time is passing by him Jim and jack still talking All the nonsense getting nowhere Only if the muse would show Oh the treasure was his To have the touch of gold To have it turn to the touch of dust The ironic twist of humankind All the storms, not outside, but inside Lighting up a cigar, watching the smoke dancing in the dark Going through a tunnel no light in sight Not sure anymore if its day or night Use to know that friend of mine The light behind the magic, Thinking it was just I and nobody else But knowing along whom the great one was