The old grandfather clock chimes eight,
I’m sure just twice a day.
But covert hands accelerate
and purposely betray
perfected balances and weight
that dictate time’s display.
As passing decades escalate,
my youth just slips away.
Beware, my friends; that damn clock spins
so quickly through the years.
Just when you think your life begins,
it’s done; old age appears.
I find I now must wear Depends
and aides stuck in my ears.
Things aren’t so bad, I tell myself.
I’ve learned a thing or two.
Before you put me on the shelf,
there’s lots old folks can do.
Hell, I can hiccup, fart, and sneeze
and make my dentures fly with ease.
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