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Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

We’re not inconveniences ;
And we are not your trash.
There’s nothing wrong with being old,
There’s nothing there to bash ;
And we’re not here for you to scold
We’re just here to abash
Until our time is finally here;
And then ,we’ll become ash .

There’s nothing poetic,
There’s nothing to gain
From being the products
Of your memory lane;
And then be forgotten,
Like leaves in the wind;
Along with all the sins
That we’ve ever sinned.

Pitiful and spiteful,
And merely humaine...
Where are all the memories
That our minds have gained?
The moments we will take
With us in the graves,
Will perish forever
Like foam does in waves.

We are the mothers of your fathers
And fathers of your friends .
We never wish to be a bother
But we can’t make amends.
We cannot remember what they are
Or how they’re done,depends.
But we can remember that by far
You’ll too have wrinkled hands:
Those are what time always leaves as scar;
The circle never ends.

You’ll get like us so soon , so cold
Will be your heart when you’ll get old
With thoughts clouding your mind like mold
And just your little heart to scold.

It won’t be pretty, I won’t lie.
There’s nothing good in dying.
But maybe then you’ll wonder why
You used to see us crying.
And maybe then you’ll wonder why
You used to see us prying.
( ‘The old hag can’t stop spying!’)
And maybe then you’ll wonder why
You used to see us drying

Like leaves in the wind;
Along with all the sins
That we’ve ever sinned.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

We’re not inconveniences ;
And we are not your trash.
There’s nothing wrong with being old,
There’s nothing there to bash ;
And we’re not here for you to scold
We’re just here to abash
Until our time is finally here;
And then ,we’ll become ash .

There’s nothing poetic,
There’s nothing to gain
From being the products
Of your memory lane;
And then be forgotten,
Like leaves in the wind;
Along with all the sins
That we’ve ever sinned.

Pitiful and spiteful,
And merely humaine...
Where are all the memories
That our minds have gained?
The moments we will take
With us in the graves,
Will perish forever
Like foam does in waves.

We are the mothers of your fathers
And fathers of your friends .
We never wish to be a bother
But we can’t make amends.
We cannot remember what they are
Or how they’re done,depends.
But we can remember that by far
You’ll too have wrinkled hands:
Those are what time always leaves as scar;
The circle never ends.

You’ll get like us so soon , so cold
Will be your heart when you’ll get old
With thoughts clouding your mind like mold
And just your little heart to scold.

It won’t be pretty, I won’t lie.
There’s nothing good in dying.
But maybe then you’ll wonder why
You used to see us crying.
And maybe then you’ll wonder why
You used to see us prying.
( ‘The old hag can’t stop spying!’)
And maybe then you’ll wonder why
You used to see us drying

Like leaves in the wind;
Along with all the sins
That we’ve ever sinned.