That’s the way it goes
for amateurs and pros—
the ball goes out of bounds.
That’s the way it goes.
That’s the way it goes,
marching all in rows—
someone’s Waterloo.
That’s the way it goes.
That’s the way it goes,
the lily and the rose—
their bloom begins to fade.
That’s the way it goes.
An undiscerning nose
can smell the stink that grows—
everybody knows
that’s the way it goes.
—Paul Willis
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