I was young once, son.

And I lived my life with wine

And I rousted up the devil’s snare

To baste and bide my time.

Yes, son, I’ve seen it all;

Been twisted up and torn

And set upon.

Been ripped apart

And spat upon

And worn.

Yeah man, I’ve greyed my hair;

You see?

No crystal stairs

And silver spoons

And satins strewn about for me.

No doubt.  I’ve walked my miles.

Beguiler and beguiled –

I am.

I am

A traveled man

And scorched my sands in style.

Don’t slip on subterfuge

Nor stumble on sublime.

I’ve got my manhood built on tears

And wisdom forged in kind.

brother, I’ve marked my time

But I’m not done.

And, son,

I once was young.

  -- Brownstone

[a tribute to Mr. Hughes]