There I stood young and tall
Proud and strong, you’d
Thought I owned it all
Life and its doings, mine
To call my own. So I Thought.
Did it all, grabbed life and hung on
Fought the good fight, but
here I am, at the end of it all
what have I got to call my own.
A wheelchair, unable to move
Much too weak, need an arm to lean on
I’m writing this down, because
Very soon I have been told
I’ll have the memory of a flea
Just thought I’d remind you
I too was once young, proud, strong and tall.
