Who are these who know themselves? No apologies, no regrets. I know myself less the older I get Apologies and regrets, they are my epaulets. They are my epaulets. The memory is unkind to me. Life seems to dream itself by. I've waited so long to be waiting here still. As the sun goes down behind the hill In Girlsville In Girlsville. The sun goes down on Girlsville. The sun goes down on Girlsville