His plans for the future on hold
And time ticks on he’s getting old,
He does not feel part of the community
Suppose we are in ourselves what we see
That makes us the person we are
The poor sighted never see far,
He is a cranky ageing bloke
And not one to laugh at a joke
Doesn’t smoke cigarettes or drink beer
One might say a hard one to cheer
And the stress from him seems to spill out
When at his wife and his children he shout.
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