The Signs are There
You know you’re getting old my man, no longer a young pup, all the signs are there to see, you grunt when you stand up. It’s not your comb…
You know you’re getting old my man, no longer a young pup,
all the signs are there to see, you grunt when you stand up.
It’s not your comb that’s broken lad, you only have less hair,
you think you have more patience, but it’s just that you don’t care
You’re past your best and o’er the hill, accept it must be so,
to look half good takes twice as long as it did years ago.
You sink your teeth into a steak and find they still stay there,
good nights now are forty winks on grandpa’s comfy chair.
Libido too is burning low, it’s harder to get fired,
takes you longer now to rest than it did to get you tired.
But do not fret, it’s only age so have another beer,
your back goes out, but you stay home, it’s all downhill from here.