MUSIC FOR SALE

Nothing special about
The golden years
Might as well call them
The stolen years

Things taken from you
Are quite horrendous
Like your dignity and memory
Your independence

Starts with the loss of
Controlling bodily urges
The need to relieve yourself
Now comes in surges

Three, four or more times
During the night
It’s not much better
In the daylight

As you grow older
You and your friends
Will despise the word
Depends

Say goodbye to
Most bedroom activity
Being frisky with the wife
Is a seldom told story

No more morning glory
Or any late-night thrill
Have to plan it out
Then take a pill

With doctor visits, naps
Asleep by seven thirty
Doesn’t leave much time
For any romantic activity

Gone is the energy
To work all day, play all night
Now it’s going to bed
When it’s still light

When I was young
I would run and skip
Now I walk with a shuffle
For fear I might trip

The worst thing that gets stolen
From your youth
And it hurts more than anything
To tell you the truth

When I was young, I'd remember
Important things in life
But now I forget things
Like the name of my wife

There’s not a lot of benefits
To growing old
There are a few perks
Just to be fair

There’s social security
And there's Medicare
We might lose those also
We've been told

Growing old can cause dismay
But I heard something once
From a wise old sage
Said we gotta leave this world
One fine day
Might as well be from livin
To a ripe old age