The magazines they savaged you,
They said you'd gotten old,
That somehow youth's eternal,
And none of this was foretold
No matter how hard we fight it,
And swim against the tide,
Nature's wishes drown us,
In the sands of time
So hold your head up proudly,
Fear not those facial lines,
The softening of the middle,
And a tush that's not so fine
They can hate us for these changes,
That are tantamount to crimes,
Vernal assholes miss the point:
They ain't far behind
