Old Fart

…Nothing new impresses you, kids having fun stresses you, one day the grim reaper addresses you, why let life get the best of you, you never have a guest or two;  mad cause your son wears a dress and hairdo, refuses the name Drew, hates the color blue; everyone knew but you, even the neighbor’s cockatoo had a clue. You play by your own rules, plus you’re cruel, life ain’t like playing pool, you’re like a hard stool passing a hemorrhoid dude, that’s not cool; stop being rude, you purposely allow people to catch you in the nude, that’s the only way you can keep them glued, mess around and get sued, but your old ass probably try to dart, and run your old Cadillac through someone’s dwelling, they’ll probably want to give you a swelling and leave you yelling, but heaven made you, so I can’t grade you. I know life played you, made you a sour plum with inflamed knees and knuckles with no hustle, even your associate Russell said you a old fart and your breath is a little tart; but you got a little heart, that you keep in a black box with rocks. Every now and then that little heart starts to putter, a utter surprise, makes me start to stutter, it’s it’s not a mirage.