An ode to old age
There's quite an art to falling apart as the years go by,
And life doesn't begin at 40. That's a big fat lie.
My hair's getting thinner, my body is not;
The few teeth I have are beginning to rot.

I smell of Vick's-Vapo-Rub, not Chanel # 5;
My new pacemaker's all that keeps me alive.
When asked of my past, every detail I'll know,
But what was I doing 10 minutes ago?

Well, you get the idea, what more can I say?
I'm off to read the obituary, like I do every day;
If my names not there, I'll once again start -
Perfecting the art of falling apart

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
After church, Johnny tells his parents he has to go and talk
to the minister right away. They agree and the pastor greets
the family.

"Pastor," Johnny says, "I heard you say today that our
bodies came from the dust."

"That's right, Johnny, I did."

"And I heard you say that when we die, our bodies go back to
dust."

"Yes, I'm glad you were listening. Why do you ask?"

"Well you better come over to our house right away and look
under my bed 'cause there's someone either comin' or goin'!"