Combine a disease that causes exhaustion
With an early retirement and now
The rising expenses you must toss in
There is no rhyme or reason to say how
I can understand the specter of doom.
Not to feel old and tired and useless,
And hide away in my too silent room
Counting the wrinkles amid my damned mess.
I no longer care what’s between my legs,
Which at this point is probably my boobs.
My life is down to viewing ashes and dregs,
On computer and television tubes.
Thank God I can cry out by pen and voice,
Might as well, Kid, I got no other choice.
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