I sit alone and look towards the green gate,
Like others before me, to await my fate.
It's where all Greyhounds go when they have grown old,
And you never return, so I have been told.
I feel somewhat afraid of what goes on behind there,
And sitting here waiting, is the hardest to bear.
I know it won't be long now, and I start to shake,
I fear what will happen, beyond the green gate.
I've had a good life, and been treated quite fair,
Now I am no longer wanted, and no one seems to care.
Left on my own in this concrete pen,
With nothing to do but wait for the end.
I don't want to die yet; I have so much to give
A nice home and loving owner where I can still live.
Where I can lay on the cool green grass,
And look up and watch the cloud's float past.
Now I see someone approach me, and I know it's too late,
They put on a lead and take me through the green gate.