Tempus Fugit About It

Who knows where the bloody time goes?
You turn your back to blow your nose,
And suddenly you’re in the throes
Of hemorrhoids and old folks’ woes.
Who knows where the bloody time goes?

Who knows where the bloody time goes?
The bloom comes off the pretty rose,
You spend your time at HMOs,
Like morbid Edgar Allen Poes.
Who knows where the bloody time goes?

Who knows where the bloody time goes?
The fate of hobos and CEOs:
From blushing youth to orthopedic hose,
And then you start to decompose.
Who knows where the bloody time goes?