when we are young we would like to be older |
| cinemas, bars, no entrance for us |
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| becoming adult we want to be seasoned |
| we like to know everything and all |
|
| turning older we hope to still look thirty |
while being proud of four decades |
|
| but the ultimate clock tells us about fifty |
when slowly the 'being young' fades |
|
| reaching the last decade we become honest |
| we finally do accept what lies ahead |
|
every year, every month, every day is a gift |
if only we had kept in hand the wasted time |
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