She gently touches the skin on her face
Where her beauty used to be
The wrinkles reach out for her fingers
Caressing them tenderly

A tear escapes and rolls to her cheek
As she weeps for the years gone by
She paid the debt the time demands
Without ever questioning why

Everything she lived for has passed away
She's left to pickup the pieces
Her memory fades a little more each day
Her forgetfulness only increases

She sits by the window and silently stares
As another day comes and goes
Today she turns a hundred years old
A birthday that destiny chose

She gently touches the skin on her face
Somewhere this story is true
There's no one to sing happy birthday
This woman could one day be you