Song Description

The march of time leaves you armed with fewer and fewer assets and feeling more and more vulnerable.

Lyrics

There's a widening spread on the top of my head through which shows my skin.
What was once so thick and fertile has become, bless me St. Myrtle, discouragingly thin.
And as I rate my sex appeal and what I am good for,
I guess it's time I must admit: my hair is not an asset anymore.

The meander of time on this body of mine has changed its basic shape.
What was light bulb pointing up is light bulb pointing down--a fact I can't escape.
And as I lose lean muscle mass and my fat index soars,
I s'pose the truth's come home to roost: my body's not an asset anymore.

I better focus on soul. I better treasure my soul. When the rest don't look too good I better focus on soul.

Well, the frightening size of the brows o'er my eyes shade a face that's been
All swallowed up in creases and saggy that reaches to my double chin.
And the bags beneath my eyes won't go no matter how much I snore.
The mirror tells me twice a day: my face is not an asset anymore.

I better focus on soul. I better treasure my soul. When the rest don't look too good I better focus on soul.