What might have been is an abstraction Remaining a perpetual possibility Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind.
There she is again stepping out of her limousine, Looking like the cover of a twenty dollar magazine. She's got it where you find it, If you know what I mean. She's a… Natural born woman, Natural born woman, Natural born woman.
There she is again, watch her stop the Main Street in its tracks, Looking like a Creole Queen hair hanging down her back. I said don't look too long, boy, She'll make your glasses crack.
