As I grow old enough to recoil I can barely walk across this land of dreams with golden soil, country with meat aplenty, a cut of beef for the cost of twenty, simplicity past before my wake, Walking through I see them guffaw, then shake.
Not a pretty picture to look at man grown old, forgetting the moment he was tall and bold, good looking, skin of bronze, white toothed smile that lingered a while, each passing day takes away youth and sway, gone is the man, welcome the aged.
On my cross! bear witness to thy good, take me home from a life in the hood, spectacular tale irrelevant now, maybe it’s a curse, I cannot understand how, Rap’ is for the young, ill leave it at that, worn and old, it is a song, so I’m told.
The trumpet calls,I do not care for the sound, a violin screeches in a hall that is round, the dog barks at the tv again, I stare at dust and wonder where I’ve been, how I got here?, what I have seen?, butterfly of beauty take me away, don’t leave me here for another day
I dance on Ice, waltz to Tchaikovsky, later I might visit Holby City, then I’m off into space exploring the galaxy visiting worlds that are ever so pretty, space stations scattered, welcome me in, then sleep has a hold and I’m away again, so scatter my bones, let them blow in the wind, mourn the memory of a lost friend, then get on with whatever life throws your way it will almost soon be your day.
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