Smoke the Past - A3

[Verse — dry, conversational, almost amused]
I smoke the past
Like it’s grass
My future has grown cold, old
My past—wow
What a treasured blast

Verse — slightly more melodic
I’m managed livestock
Like chickens in a roost
A pig in a pen
No more pennies for my thoughts

Break — nearly spoken, deadpan
Tuesday: Bingo
Wednesday: Transfusion
Thursday: Physical therapy
Friday: Mystery Meat

Chorus — bigger, darkly triumphant
Our teeth are optional
Our appetites are not
We chew like glaciers
At the table of decay

We shuffle to dinner
Like zombies in an end-of-life parade
Sports betting is now guessing
Which one kicks the can next

[Verse — dry, conversational, almost amused]
We navigate the hallway corridors
Like we’re casting for the living dead
With nowhere left to scurry
Eat our food, live
At the glacier speed of eternity

Verse — slightly more melodic
Depends are no longer a choice
They’re the catch-all for soiled waste
Aid and assistance
Is no longer on aisle nine
It’s a call for a daily wipe

Break — nearly spoken, deadpan
The toilet becomes a throne
Until you can’t get off
Then somebody — me — calls 911
To retrieve the king

[Verse — dry, conversational, almost amused]
I’m hoisted from my porcelain kingdom
Like a prisoner being airlifted away
I close my eyes and imagine
A bright, sandy island
Somewhere they don’t know my name

Chorus — bigger, darkly triumphant
My life is now a horror show
“Let’s get you cleaned up”
Is just a preview
Supersized with Depends

Verse — slightly more melodic
My friend is a walker
Outfitted with bright yellow tennis balls
I’m the belle of the ball
I’ve gone from high-heeled shoes
To Velcro

[Verse — dry, conversational, almost amused]
On great days
I’m whisked from my kingdom
To the great dining hall
In a Ferrari wheelchair

Verse — slightly more melodic
I shower in a shower chair
Air-dry more than towel-dry
Standing is now an extreme sport
And balance has become
A matter of opinion

Bridge — stripped down
My independence is withering
I’m becoming a liability
To everyone around me
Especially to myself

I drool
I stoop
I drape

My dentures float in a cup nightly
While my face slowly implodes
And I become Granny May
A stranger wearing a face
I no longer know

Break — nearly spoken, deadpan
Happy hour is now medication time
The pill cup is my cocktail glass
I raise my little plastic chalice
And toast to whatever comes next

[Verse — dry, conversational, almost amused]
I once griped about things
Small and smaller
Now I only have the energy
For getting older

Chorus — bigger, darkly triumphant
I won’t sugarcoat
This getting-old thing
It’s a bleak destination
A dark corridor
A cold, cold ending

The final wipe of time

Verse — slightly more melodic
I spend most days and nights
Passing around Swiss-cheese memories
From one meandering moment
To the next

I once chased new memories
Like an addict searching for a fix
Now I steal from the past
To while away
The slow tick of life

Outro — cinematic, fading into darkness
I smoke the past
Like it’s grass
Pull another memory
Disappear into the past

Carpe diem
Once, I lived