I'm almost 71 years old. I'm lost in a changing world. I still have hope for progeny. I still believe in True Love, Santa Claus and happy endings. I don't think I'll ever really die.
Whistle, breeze and blow Full of words and promises Some are sweet, others cold Some sting and bite Others are wise and old Hear them all But do not make them your own Unless they sit right and speak to your soul They often whistle, breeze and blow But it doesn't always make it so.