All The Fun Of The Fair
Tomorrow I'll find someone new
Tomorrow I won't have the flu
I'll wake up with the sun
Shake stardust from my hair
Watch all my colours run
Yes, all the fun of the fair.
Tomorrow I won't slash my wrists
Not while the alcohol persists
But cry to the same sad refrain.
And spend the night in a chair.
As love leaves on a distant train
Tomorrow, all the fun of the fair.
As bitterness eats me alive
She tears my heart from afar
My gamble is just to survive
My emotions all in a jar
- On the shelf of forgotten dream
While hope drowns in silver stream
That washes my touch from her hair.
Ah yes, tomorrow all the fun of the fair.
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Comments about this poem (All The Fun Of The Fair by Kevin East )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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