The presents of senescence beneath the tree of the elderly
I’m greyed and afraid of this parade of the staid and decayed in which I’ve been waylaid.
Hospital trouble, a memory in rubble, parents in need of a body double
(And it’s all as inaudible as it’s inlaudable.)
And once they ‘ve risen into the sun your own taxi down the tarmac’s begun
In this anti-airplane of a walker and cane with the captain announcing you’re lame and insane
(Please fasten your transfer and gait belt.)
Guess all you can do is laugh at the loss, confusion and pain as we make our way back to the place where we came.
.i`` * ^ / . . . . . ` `~ 