Now that I’m older – seventy-eight,
I don’t have a care,
Pardon me if you should see me on a toot,
All-night benders in a pink suit.

I have a certain longevity:
Only six years more.
Will you still hug me, will you still drug me,
When I’m eighty-four?

Carisoprodol
Makes you feel real good.
I could have a ball.

I should be eating animal fat,
Kale does no more good.
Make me a nice dessert of Flexeril,
Ev’ry day a new-colored pill.

Downing a Xanax, puffing on weed,
Sleeping with a whore,
Will you still hug me, will you still drug me,
When I’m eighty-four?

You can mix my Smirnoff with diazepam
For that extra kick, if we’re out of horse.
What the hell’s the diff?
One nostril for cocaine,
One for glue to sniff.

Anti-depressants, pain-killers, too,
I must ask of you.
We can get delivery from 9 to 3,
Courtesy of Sam’s Pharmacy.

Years that are golden should be a joy,
Not a sober bore.
Will you still hug me, will you still drug me,
When I’m eighty-four?