When the final curtain falls; will it be upon dull white sheets?

With a pale wall and that white hall just out of reach of balled feet

unable to crawl. Will my hands be too tired to continue the brawl of life?

That I become nothing more than a doll; unable to crawl into that hall,

As the final curtain falls; upon white dull sheets . . . Perhaps,

I should ponder in the wander of my thought to the wonder of;

What chaps and what lassies will be there in applause,

as the final curtain falls.