I’m
Not
Young,
Not
Wise
Or
Good,
But
Act
As
I think
I should.
Still,
I must
Confess,
Sometimes
It’s
An
Awful
Mess.
What
Can
I do
But
Muddle
Through?
I show
A
Little
Road
Wear
Here
And
There,
But
Feel
No
Pain
And
Can’t
Complain.
I carry
A
Few
Sharp
Regrets,
Life’s
Priceless
Toys,
That
Do
Not
Dim
The
Light
Of
Precious
Joys,
I can
Say,
And
That
Gets
Me
Through
The
Day.