A Kind Of Maturity


He bursts into the bar, hurls his cap on the floor
Opens his big mouth, swears loudly
He’s just turned 19, Christ he’s so obscene
Following in father’s footsteps

And all around him – fogeys of about 65
They talk about how good it is to be alive
He smiles admiringly and says, Well, yeah – that’s life’
And then he starts to moan about ‘the bloody wife.’

19 year old body, 58 year old mind
Brainwashed to the point of being senile
His life is so empty, he is reduced
To dreaming about his pension

He’s really looking forward to history
So he can tell his friends how it used to be
Sighs with disgust, reading the headlines every day
But as long as he’s got a face to punch then he’s OK

Bland comprehension of the way things should be
His main outlooks are safeness and security
A fully paid up member of the non-risk league
It’s supposed to be some kind of maturity
But not mine

Everybody’s ageing
Everyone’s in jail
Everybody’s dying
No-one’s getting bail

from Chapter 7 of The Diary Of A Musical NobodyCheer Up!

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