Can't remember your name,
what you look like, who you are.
Don't want to grow old
with my shoes untied and my hair unfurled.
I don't want to rot with the TV set to channel 13.
What a pretty weather lady
Who are you, son of mine?,
Don't you mind?
I need some room to breathe,
I've lived too long with too much to see.
I don't want to rot in this fucking chair.
My spine crooked and my teeth not all there.
I never want to feel totally useless.