There’s quite an art to falling apart
as the years go by,

And life doesn’t begin at 40.
That’s a big fat lie.

My hair’s getting thinner,
my body is not;

The few teeth I have
are beginning to rot.

I smell of Vick’s-Vapo-Rub,
not Chanel # 5;

My new pacemaker’s all that
keeps me alive.

When asked of my past,
every detail I’ll know,

But what was I doing
10 minutes ago?

Well, you get the idea,
what more can I say?

I’m off to read the obituary,
like I do every day;

If my name’s not there,
I’ll once again start –

Perfecting the art
of falling apart!

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