Dirty words

I woke up today morning at six thirty
Twenty nine seem like words so dirty
Now I’m watching Friends on TV
And the dog’s about to sing happy birthday to me

Before I went to bed last night
Two friends mellowed me; namely vodka and sprite
As a result, midnight missed calls reigned supreme
While I did surprising song sequences in my dream

The world still seems the same, only I have aged
Even as a sea of turmoil inside me raged
I’m going to miss being twenty eight
I feel like a perfect fisherman’s bait

How quickly did all these years pass by
Half a lifetime flits in a blink of an eye
Much as I hate it, I’m growing old
I’m panicked and nervous – hey, I’m not that bold!

My aunt called me to wish me the other day
At 71, she’s feisty and spirited – that I can sure say
She refused to believe I was twenty nine
I laughed to hear her echo thoughts exactly like mine

I then wondered, if I really have to grow older by the year
Like her, I’d at least live life to the fullest – no fear
I suppose I should be thankful I’m not thirty
I stand corrected – those are the words most dirty

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