Like the pants that sag round my ankles of life
Whilst the rest of the world crawled on
When the symphony of strife cries shame
I see, that my time has gone.

I was special and once loved life
In the time when I strutted the world
I cut mountains down to dust
And from that dust raised children.

Such children, bright and innocent
Now claim the right to light
They march the world, as soldier ants
Until the day they see their saggy pants.

(Mike)