When I was a child, I had a friend He told me every single little thing; Of how he was scared the world would end And how he wanted to be king.

Wherever he went, we were always together In school, at home, or on the ground; Come hell or high water, we swore to each other We’d never let the other down.

I’d laugh at his stories, but had none of mine to tell He’d tell me sometimes, “Come on, now, your turn”; I’d sit there blankly, and he’d say, “Oh, well” And go on without further concern.

Little wonder, then, that I soon found myself alone And I have only myself to blame; Once he found others who had stories of their own It never was quite the same.

When he was a child, he had no friends So I popped up in his head; But he grew up, and I couldn’t jump that fence And I, never alive, was left for dead.