Middle aged and forty

The old age of youth and the youth of old age
At forty arrives the unfortunate stage

There’s a starting of senior moments
As you linger half way on the stair
Unable to think if you’re on the way UP
Or you’re on the way DOWN but you don’t really care

And you find that you wildest fantasy
Is having JUST nothing to do
When the telephone rings on a Saturday night
And you pray that it isn’t for you

And you know that the clock is now ticking
And you see the familiar signs
That your death is NOW on the horizon
And your living on limited time

But it’s easy to start getting negative
It’s easy to foster a middle aged frown
But stop for a moment and have some perspective
Chillax, take it easy, don’t put yourself down

Because wait till you find yourself fifty
And you’re drifting along with no clue
Clutching your Norwegian rambling poles
On your permanent search for the loo

And you look back to when you were forty
And remember the spring in your stride
Back to when you could break wind with confidence
With no fear of a chocolate landslide

Yes the secret is live for the moment
Don’t worry your self round the bend
And if in doubt watch the stone Roses
and thank god that you don’t look like them