Whatever comes out of your mouth
After you're fifty you'd better
Be ready to believe it the kinds
Of things you say to yourself
Which it takes to sixty to understand
How to let go of them somewhat
What happens to those
Who miss out on their seventies
When forgiveness comes at last
Not least to those who accept it
Only those who make it to ninety
Have a clue what's going on
All the ones I've met are like newborns
Fragile as babies with that
Same heaven in their eyes
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