I used to chase a blustery, brown ball around in my socks,
Always blowing around in the wind
Like on a windy day
It was a happy ball
As happy as my mother on her wedding day,
But now- It's an angry ball
Angry at brunette hair down to it's back
Angry at the first scene of it's bad moves
Angry at brown beards that look like straw
And angry at black jackets, as black as night
But now all the blustery brown ball does
Is chase me around in my now soiled socks
I cannot control it
Nor can I handle it
The ball doesn't care
It's having fun
And I no longer can
Because life is fun no more