But it is good no more.
To make a line rhyme in time
Is just too big a chore.
I used to write of love
And happy days gone by,
But now my mind can't dwell on such
No matter how I try.
I used to write of life
And of youth's great growing pains,
But now I sit in a rocking chair
And listen to the trains.
To think and strain once wasn't needed.
My mind abounded with plenty.
I guess it's 'cause I'm growing old,
For today, I turn'ed twenty.