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Bombadil

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Bombadil

One More Ring

my room is a museum
a lifetime's of my work
I am the last Mohican
I stand proud although I'm hurt
I keep a cup of secrets
from which I never drink
I am an ancient king
who sits proud but never thinks

so if I find one more ring
of yours mixed up among my things
I just might sell all my belongings
to make sure I've cut all my strings

and if I find one more note
crumpled up inside my coat
I'm moving back to Carolina
where I'll live out on the coast

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I have a box of trinkets
I count them one by one
each one is a keepsake
from a war that I have won
I have a daily schedule
a comfortable routine
watch months roll by with pleasure
like girls walking down the street

I lost all my ambition
could've settled for less
but if I can't have you
I don't care about the rest

if I find one more strand
of black hair under my night stand