I’m waddling around with wattles. Nothing in a bottle will change that. Not buying a better looking hat Or a brighter, tighter shirt. My childhood left in the dirt, I’m an old man! I do what I can To not look like a wino under a bridge; A smidge of aftershave so I don’t stink And people don’t think I’m decaying.
What I’m saying is, I’m getting old. Graying smudges among the gold. This is me. This is what I see daily When I glance gaily into my mirror Expecting the guy as young as I feel. He isn’t real. An old guy sneaked in Again, and I wish I hadn’t peeked. Oh well, this isn’t really hell. I have never thought I was hot, One of those handsome lads that had Everyone’s heads turning for them.
I had dim hope there for a while But, no matter how much I smile Nothing wins like smooth skin Broad shoulders and big pecs. I mean, I was not a wreck, but not As I said, even a little bit hot. Oh well, I got what I got, true? Can I or you ever defeat genetics? Like father like son, and mother, Creates another generation of us; Nice guys and gals, but plain, And this old man is what remains.