She cringes as the car pulls up.
Then he stomps through the door.
A grab and a slap,
and she falls to the floor.
She cries, she cries
and begs for no more.

She hears the angry voice,
and she tries in vain to hide.
Knowing the fury,
That he's holding inside.
She cries and she cries,
She's so sick of this ride.

She escapes the next night,
in a bold, daring ploy.
No longer his plaything,
No longer his toy.
She cries and she cries,
but now they're tears of joy.

My knees are hurting,
but my hair isn't grey.
My abs aren't flat,
but I still enjoy playing sports.

I go to bed earlier,
yet I still want to have fun.
I don't move as quickly,
but I still love to dance.

I'm a littler wiser in moments,
but foolish in others.
Sometimes I'm the adult,
Sometimes I'm the kid.

I accept the fact
that middle age comes for me.
But I reserve the right
to stay young as long as I can.