parade of time

the sad eyed folks have me by the legs again...my body aches with acres of decay...another meaningless day on the planet by the sea...and the masses rejoice for dear old ireland...a place many have seen and fewer have known...the ice storm has subsided and the whiskey is flowing in these new york streets...i think of seventeenths past, where the glasses burst over with goodness, and there was sawdust on the floor...but tonite even the haunting music of the island cannot comfort me...for the shannon, the lee, the po, the ganges, and even the mighty mississippi seem to flow forever...sometimes gorged to their gills, sometimes merely a trickle...but much like us they are ephemeral, like a whiskey covered dream...