In the mirror there are all these scars and stuff
As I stand there in my naked buff
Not a spark in my eyes, or a parting in my hair
And nothing going on 'down there'
If my body shows signs of the life I've led
It would show that I was over-fed
Where a six-pack was, there is now a tyre
I'll not be setting any hearts on fire
And my days of turning on the female kind
Is more or less a state of mind
As I stand an look at that mirrors glare
At my swollen frame and lack of hair
I would love to be pleased at what I see
But all that's reflected is poor old me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem