Can things ever be quite the same?
When I know that “Mayor” or “Your Worship” is not my name
When I enter a room and nobody stands
I give forth my views, and there’s no clapping of hands
When I am no longer dressed up in robe and chain
With no more Parlour’s or people to entertain
When I attend functions those that I’m able
And find my place is not the top table
Shall I find I’m bewildered, lost or perplexed?
When the day arrives I’m turned into an “EX”
Well, I‘ve met many “ex’s” quite rational and sane
So I feel sure there must be
“Life after the Chain”
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