My body's an old banger
Sometimes it backfires
Fate, the backseat driver
Tells me to slam the brakes on
Sometimes I run on empty
I'm on a collision course with a wall
Old age, the fender bender
Is putting a spoke in my wheel
Lately I reverse away from living
I'm running out of steam, out of road
Soon I will be melted down for scrap
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem