I wouldn't call it fancy
Like I would a Sunday suit
In fact the older that I get
The more that it hangs loose

The colors okay although it fades
With every passing day
A spot a blotch some borrowed, bought
It's hard to say how it was made

It happens to the best of us
The luckiest of people
That hang around long enough
To wear this suit of wrinkles

Right to left, front to back
All sides sag the same
It's certainly no secret kept
Gravity ain't playing

And with that said wear it to bed
In the morning shake it off
A stich or two may come unglued
Take it with you and move on

If you hang round long enough
Considered one of the lucky people
Happens to the best of us
Inside this suit of wrinkles