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There's quite an art to falling apart as the years go by,And life doesn't begin at 40. That's a big fat lie.My hair's getting thinner, my body is not;The few teeth I have are beginning to rot.I smell of Vick's-Vapo-Rub, not Chanel # 5;My new pacemaker's all that keeps me alive.When asked of my past, every detail I'll know,But what was I doing 10 minutes ago?Well, you get the idea, what more can I say?I'm off to read the obituary, like I do every day;If my names not there, I'll once again start -Perfecting the art of falling apart

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