By: Alan Berger

After a night of attempted slumber
In restless soul town
I awoke staring at the same fucking number
The one that might stop at anytime but will never go down

I know I know
The musings of a clown

When I first heard growing old ain’t for sissies
I couldn’t see
But I did know, it was not for thee
I’m seeing now
As a matter of fact I’m crying
I don’t know why life
Comes with such a silly thing called dying

Watching a parade
Not my own this time but watching others
Catching the eye from grandmothers

This is what I no longer have to be told
I am suffering
From the age old tale
Of growing old

The road
I am on has no bend
Strait as a ruler and one way sure
The things that I do
I have all done many times before

I remember the first time someone held a door for me and called me sir, as if they cared
I wanted to throw them down the stairs

But there weren’t any

One thing I like hearing myself saying thou
That makes my heart ring, ding, and sing
Is that acceptance is a beautiful thing
Anyway
It’s always going to be the same old me

Swimmingly splendid
Easy to see
My future, my now, my history