It was 1995,
We fought to remember we were atill alive
We sat around and said "How nifty!
I still feel twenty, but I'm fifty!"

And "How is it those too young to know
Are a portion of the world that always seems to grow?"

And those who remember Kennedy being shot
Are fewer than those who
For one reason or another
Can not?

ANd why do our pates shine, and our wrists twitch?
I'm tellin' ya man,
Middle age is a pure-dee bitch!

Regards,

A