If That's The Truth (You Can Stick It)

If That’s The Truth (You Can Stick It)

They say that honesty’s the best policy,

That we all have a duty to be straight -

Well, I’m not so sure about that, my friends,

Or that the truth is really so great.

So let me tell you what I know to be true,

And let me speak exactly as I find,

Then you can all judge for yourselves,

And be ready to make up your own mind.

I’m getting older, and will get no younger,

I’m no longer down there, deep in the groove -

There are bits of me moving south-ward,

And everything hurts or creaks when I move.

I prefer Radio 4 to Radio 1 -

I find it easier on the heart.

I’ve lost track of pop music -

I’m turning into an old fart.

I no longer feel butch,

I don’t follow fashion and such,

My house is the size of a hutch,

My hands are clammy to touch,

And I’m drinking too much.

My clothes are out of date,

I’m succumbing to fate,

My life I’m starting to hate,

I never hear from my best mate,

And I’m well over-weight.

I owe taxes to the Revenue ,

That’s what it says on my statement.

I don’t have any money stashed away,

And now they’re chasing for late payment.

My children have flown the nest,

Even though I gave them my best,

I no longer pass every test,
I don’t get enough rest,

And everything’s gone West.

Sex is less interesting (or possible),

My libido’s right down on the floor.

I’ve lost touch with everybody,

And my girl-friend don’t love me no more.

  

We’re buggering up the planet -

Mankind just seems fixated on war.

It’s all greed and selfishness,

I sometimes wonder what it’s all for.

And the Universe is an infinite void,

Earth just a tiny, meaningless speck,

No other intelligence out there,

I mean – what the heck!

Seems like we’re here on our tod,

And, besides, there’s no God.

Nothing in life is fair,

It’s all wear and tear,

A long bloody nightmare,

Why should we bother to care?

I’ve got more than a hunch,

That as we take punch after punch,

There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

Politicians deceive and they lie,

So I’ve become a cynical old guy,

No matter how hard I try.

There’s no answer to “why?”,

Children continue to cry,

The odds we can’t defy,

Life’s a bitch

And we’re all gonna die!

I may sound uncouth,

Bitter and twisted forsooth,

But ain’t that really the truth?

Seems to me that’s exactly the ticket –

We’re all batting on a sticky wicket,

But if that’s really the truth,

Then I’m afraid you can stick it!

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2019