The End Of The Plot

Don't know how many years I have left

Could be one, could be ten, could be twenty

Pretty good shape for a man of eighty-one

But I'm starting to think of it plenty

It's only natural as you get along in years

To start wondering when that day will arrive

When your numbers up, it's the end of the line

No matter how hard you try to survive

Can't imagine people who end their own lives

They know they'll be gone and forgotten

Everything they've lived for since being a child

Must really have reached rock bottom

Even with what seems like my upbeat nature

Must admit it's on my mind quite a lot

Guess it's only natural considering my years

We eventually reach the end of the plot

In all honesty don't think I'll be leaving just yet

With my family history of longevity

Living to well into the eighties was common

So worrying is really not necessary