My face slowly sinks, Sink melts gradually & Starts to fold. My blood's not cold. I don't feel disease, No aches or agonies, But I'm growing old. The grey-backed glass says so. I'm wasting away. I'm being erased It's my birthday, But I feel the same. My beard is dying grey My pulse in slowly in my veins, & I don't feel all-grown, Even though I am, I know. I'm wasting away. I'm being erased It's my birthday, But I feel the same. My eye's framed by dark. Nights & mornings have left their mark. I'm not tired. I don't Feel the year at all. I'm wasting away. I'm being erased It's my birthday, But I feel the same.