to be sung

Old friend, I say to the skeleton.
Who you calling old, he laughs.

My heart feels old. He could
give me another heart, he says.

The wind, it blows right through him,
but he has new skin for me

if only I would leave my old skin
he tells me I could be free.

I’ve nothing to pay the old man with
but he says, keep the change

If he’ll keep what I once was,
I’ll keep what remains.