In my old age, I am still young. getting more punk? something people grow out of. what is sadness? why is it a thing? i was never one to jot down my thoughts. what is life? what is love? questions i thought i had figured out when i was younger. when did this happen? what is change? should things change? as i look at myself (5x) It seems that change is irrelevant it happens to the best of us. As time goes by I still have no answers, like lost ships sinking with the sunset, ramblings & drawings in notebooks just to pass the time saving myself from myself, unfinished sentences that evoke a feeling. it took me a while, it took me a while, it took me your grace your charm & a smile. it took me a while, it took me a while, it took me a while, it took me a while, it took me your grace your smile. it took me a while, it took me a while, it took me a while, it took me a while to admit that i miss you...