Getting older, getting old.
As life rushes by, we wonder what it’s all about, we struggle to make sense of it all,
and we come to the end of our understanding; we are baffled by it all, in the end.
We are all whole universes; whole universes of trouble, whole universes of love,
whole universes of complexity; when we die a whole universe dies with us.
In the wee small hours we sit, and hope that life goes on forever. We watch our movies, drink our
beer, and think our thoughts, lost in space and time.
Those moments, when we are lost even to ourselves, when everything seems possible and nothing
seems impossible, are fleeting, but they are what keeps us going.
Feel like I’m living on borrowed time, all the time, feel like I’m living on borrowed time.
All the dreams I had when I was young; did they just disappear into the ether?
People move in and out of your life as you get older. New things appear, and old things go, go the
way of all things, to be forgotten, as we no doubt will be forgotten.
Who wants to get older, and give way to the younger? We all dream that we will live forever; but we
So, we get old, and we can’t do a thing about it; we are on a long journey, and we will find ourselves
at the end of it.