Another Year Numb

It’s just another day,

just another hour.

Just the same old grass,

the same, dead flower.

It’s a big hunk of milk,

that’s now sour.

It’s that old building husk,

that abandoned tower.


A day that should be special,

is now the same old same,

it’s just another day of the year,

and to the cause of which none can blame.

It’s the day you came around,

the day you got your name,

but you seem to care about such no more,

it was just a fun game.


You take the yelling and the fuss,

and go about your day,

as though it means not a thing,

the meaning’s just decay.

But even when you’re tired and weary,

when you’re old and grey,

I promise that I’ll still be here,

to tell you ‘Happy Birthday’.


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