Oh my broken battered body,
In the days when I was younger,
Used to fix itself quick sharp
After every slip and stumble.
But these days I'm collecting scars that don't seem to fade,
Cuts and [bad word] that won't go away.

And I used to think that I
Would never live past twenty five,
And when you think like that, each day
Is a gift if you survive.
But I've survived too long for my side of the deal,
And as I reach that shore I'm not sure how to feel.

I keep losing days
That used to take a lifetime
In the blinking of an eye.
And all these small ideas
Are [bad word] 
As greatness slips on by.

I remember well the day that I got my first tattoo:
I was so scared before and after I was so proud when it was new.
But these days I've gone and got me many more,
And sometimes I get more when I get bored.
One for every year I've lost