Saturday, June 09, 2007

Little old ladies
With their sensible shoes
Little old men
With their sensible views
The old people parade
Goes marching on by

I go for a walk
Trying desperately to remember the place
That will soon remember my place no more

Empty, my room
As though I were never here
Empty, my heart
As though I never met you

We turn our backs
And walk in opposite directions
It's called "forward"

It won't matter
It won't mean a thing, child
There will be many other things
That you would wish you could forget
And forget you will
As time marches on
And you join the old people parade

posted by beckyboo @ 6:43 AM

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