My opposable thumbs are against me
Almost everything’s out of my grasp
My rich Irish tenor no longer sounds lovely
It’s more of a rich Irish rasp

I checked out my face in the mirror this morning
And found to my dismal dismay
My nostrils are bleeding my hair is receding
My nerves are beginning to fray

I won’t let that keep me from enjoying my birthday
It’s coming up soon I’ll admit
The candles are lighted my future is blighted
To be honest I feel like …