The Middle Ages

Time never stands still
Ideas all fade away
People turn into their parents
Everything becomes cliché

Longevity is rewarded
With tickets to a concert
To see a band who rocked your youth
With just a couple of original members in truth

And your kids are leaving home
And your wife is doing the yoga
And your job is just a way of earning money
And you’re not very funny

And you still think about her
You still think about her
You still think about her

Somebody rings you up
Not heard from them in 15 years
Meet up for a drink
Talk about the past

A postcard from Australia
Is hidden in your secrets box
You could have run away with her
So why didn’t you?

You still think about her

But thinking and doing are never the same
You eventually come to realise
The candle has no flame
And the spring in your step is lame

Search engines can’t find her
Facebook draws a blank
It’s probably for the best
Yes yes yes

These are the middle ages
There is nothing here but waiting
Cutting the hedge and failing
To do anything worthwhile

And you still think about her
You still think about her
You still think about her