Sexless little being with a squeaky voice
Grow hair on your chin, girls are a choice
The cheek’s begun, love your mum
Hero, or teacher, love your father
Love with all your might, or fight.
Some people say it is the passing of the baton
you know what, that’s what happens.
Rip into life, get into strife
Grow your hair, what will I wear
Devil may care, have an affair
Children every week, that’s what you seek
She becomes the woman with whom you used to sleep
TV dinners on your own, missing your kids, missing your home
They grow so fast, when did you see them last
On your own, that was never the plan
Quickly it becomes time to hang up your work
Grey hair at the temples, suddenly you’re old
Someone to look after you, no never, eschew
Fight of your life, one night you die
Remembered for what, being a good guy that’s what
Fifty years passed. “Who is this?” your great grandkids ask.
That’s not how you thought this would play out.
No comments:
Post a Comment