A LOT LIKE YOU
Folk tend to speak over you
When you grow a little old,
And often they ignore your view,
They don't hear it being told.
It seems that you don't count no more;
That what you say need not be said.
Sometimes I think I'll shut the door,
I 'd be better off lying dead.
It is a young man's world I guess,
There ain't much that I can do,
but it huts me when they make a mess
'cause they do not have a clue...
But, well I guess I must confess,
I once was a lot like you.