I stand on the open porch
Out in the winter cold
My cigarette is my torch
Though they're making me old
My soul has been there for awhile
I hope my body never meets it
I want to go out in my own style
I hope my old age never greets it
That's if I reach old age
I guess I hope to do so
See life in a new stage
And help others learn and grow
Just thoughts over a cigarette I guess. Trying to format it the way I want was difficult. Kind of a play on "Soul Meets Body" and coming to terms with my fear of growing physically old.
