Thanks, Joe Clone. The version deleted above was actually my 'final draft' (to date, anyway), and the one that's still up there is an earlier draft. The only difference, I think is that verses 2 and 3 in the 'final' (or just alternate) version are:

br>Come, you couch potatoes who sit on your cans
(Which keeps your butts wide), youth will not come again
Seems you've peaked too soon, and the young have cut in,
And there's no doubt it's you they're upstaging,
And the memory you lose you may never regain--
Like Bob Dylan, we are all aging.

Come, middle-aged hippies, please heed the signs
That now it is your ways are lagging behind,
And you're easily hurt when you don't toe the line.
There are battles inside you a-ragin'.
They'll soon shake your dentures and addle your mind.
Like Bob Dylan, we are all aging.

BTW, I didn't mean to post that email address. It's still valid, but I've long since forgotten the password for that address, so I can't retrieve mail there.