I'M SO GLAD I WAS CURED OF THIS DISEASE YEARS AGO!

THAT SNIDE DISEASE CALLED YOUTH BY JACKIE BEAT



One day your six-pack, washboard abs

Will hang and sag like burlap bags

Your thick and shiny, matinee hair

Will fall out leaving the sun's glare

Upon your thick and shiny skull

Which, turns out, is an empty hull

No brain inside, no heart, no soul

But just a leathered, weathered hole

A small sad smile will soon replace

That snotty sneer upon your face

For as you curl your lip at me

Dismissing me as "history"

You'll realize that when you were young

Your life was lip-synced and not sung

All that you thought was real and gold

Was worthless, wasted, tired and old

You're all the things that make you sick

While on your hunt for wild dick

Atrophied, arthritic, ill

There's no elixir, nor a pill

For only undilluted truth

Can cure that snide disease called Youth

So smile your lies, go hook and hustle

Work your look and flex your muscle

Run to the arms of what you're fearing

Shout, "Straight-acting, straight-appearing!"

Addicted to what hates you most

And haunted by Paul Lynde's ghost

So dim your light and watch your tone

But one day when you're all alone

You'll crave two things that no bank lends:

A fucking brain and a few close friends