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 bruises 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 suddenly commitments,
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
Writer(s): Frank Turner
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