Old Men Tell the Best Tales

Sounds fall most agonizingly onto the pavement, as my last words are uttered
The fall of man is soon and near the old man in the coffee shop mutters
But when and where and why and how, wont we fly away into the clouds?
"The end is near" says the dreary man, who sat upon his broken chair,
and across the room and little girl with the most curious of stares.
"But what of hope, all things considered" But the man interjected most
rudely with a quiver "you may call me rude but don't call me bitter."

For time and time again I've, till my children's children have lived and died,
the end will never be far from reach, no one to tell you and no one to preach
these penny times, and nickle rhymes, in this ten sent town,
no one has tipped in a long, long time.

but the ramblings of and old man, never ever lie.