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The object of my darkest fear.
Heaven forbid the day is near
When you will go and join the rest,
And make God smile with your loving jests.
I can't' help notice your hair's turned gray.
You're no longer able to jump or to play.
Your bones, they crackle and pop in and out.
The signs of old age are round and about.
I fear for your life, you can't leave me now.
Your show is not over, don't take a bow.
Applause will do nothing to cheer up my heart
On the day that us mortals must surely part.
I wish for your days to be lengthy and strong,
To try with all might your death to prolong.
But for now I'm reminded every day
That your time is not long by your hair turning gray.