So this is the end
Can I pack up my troubles now?
And ship them all home?
Shoot myself home
For good, good, good, good?
Are you sure it's the end?
'Cause not much has changed round here
For a while
For as long as I dare to think
Of you sitting round a table
Coffee or wine?
Signing off with a fountain pen
Who's left around the doors?
Will I recognise you all?
Or have you grown away from me
Since I've been away
So long, long, long, long
And then I think
Of you sitting round a table
Déjeuner à douze
Making peace with a pen
