As the firelight is casting,
Flickering shadows on the wall,
We see a grey -haired gentleman
Come slowly walking down the hall.
He sits down by the fireside,
his eyes are filled with tears
Then this old retired showman
drifts back through the years
He sees his name in bright lights,
He hears the crowd applauding,
The cheering of little children,
as he sings a song for them
Fans and friends were many,
oh his name was big back then
Are the nights he brought
Said they'd never get his name,
And the way he picked a guitar,
Why he'd put them all to shame.
He recalls the standing ovations,
As he took his final bow,
Then for a moment he stops to wonder,
would they applaud him now?
For his fingers are all feeble and
He can't even press the strings down,
Only memories left to haunt him.
Memories from the days now past.
He's become what they call in the show world,
one of the old forgotten past.
Shadows on the wall are fading,
We see a grey -haired gentleman
no more will feel the pain
For he's gone to join the angels where
he'll sing his songs again
He's gone to join the angels
Where he'll sing his songs again
