[Verse 1]
After all is said and done
Not very much will have been either way:
I'm a chronicler of action
I'm an actor in the play
I know the lines I have to speak
I know that I won't ever quit, corpse, or dry
But the performance gets so pointless
And the days just drift on by

[Bridge]
Oh, every time that I go to turn the pages of the calendar
In the third act of this twenty-ninth year of the show
I'm aware of the latest leading lady and get mad at her...
It's perfunctory, but why she'll never know

[Instrumental Break]

[Verse 2]
When I began I had my hopes
Believed that I could be a leading light of the stage
But now I've stunned myself to silence
Exhausted all my inner rage
Extinguished all my joy and violence
Trapped all my feelings in a cage
[Bridge]
And every time that I go to turn the pages of the calendar
I can see that I'm not really going anywhere;
All these years I have skirted round experience like a scavenger
Can I really feel? I wonder if I dare?
At the end of the run, will there be anyone who cares?
And behind the actor's pose, heaven knows
If there's anyone left in there