Says Elliott - Sibylle Baier

I grow old, I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled, says Elliott

I grow old, I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled, says Elliott

Days keep growing short, nights too

Let us go then, you and I

And try to unlearn, says Elliott

He seeks for return and burns ancient love letters

Let us go then you and I and lie by marble stone, says Elliott

And put a record on the gramophone

Lie down dear, on the weed

Don’t weep dear

Gaily clad

Sadness is a radical quantity, says Elliott

Sadness is a long brown ribbon, says he

Sadness is beautiful

I grow old, I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled, says Elliott

I grow old, I shall wear my trousers rolled, says Elliott