I worry
that I will be old before I’m proud,
here, now, I am
tearing the strings loose from a coat,
seeing the hole widen and unravel.
The cold will get in here,
the damp,
I worry
I worry
that I will be old before I’m proud,
here, now, I am
tearing the strings loose from a coat,
seeing the hole widen and unravel.
The cold will get in here,
the damp,
I worry