Is it true that I'm no longer young?

Anoche Escuchaba el temaso Lather de Jefferson Airplane, y me quede pensando en la frase :

"Is it true that I'm no longer young?"
Sera cierto que ya no soy mas joven?

Y la verdad es que no supe contestarla. Hasta hoy a la mañana en la que haciendo tiempo para que me pasaran a buscar, empece a dar vueltas por el jardin de casa. Vi un hongo, otro mas, y otro y hace como 15 hongos. Acto seguido uh que embole habra que sacar estos hongos quedan tan feos, bueno ya voy a ver si los corto con algo ...

Antes salia al jardin solo para ver si habia hongos! Veia uno y automaticamente chequeaba si no habia pitufos. Nunca encontre uno he de confesar, no estaria escribiendo tan tranquilamente desde casa.
Lo lindo era no encontrar ese pitufobromista pero convencerme de que el vivia ahi, que yo no los veia porque se escondian por su bien y el mio.

Creo que esto se debe a que comence a ver tele de Grande tipo 7 u 8, lo que me ocasionaba cierto tipo de delirium tremens como este o el caso en el cual me cambie el nombre a ABRIL ( La flaca de las tortugas ninjas) todo porque estaba convencida que asi iban a aparecer las tortugas ninjas y Splinter. Mi mama me retaba y me tenia que llamar ABRIL porque sino no le daba bola.

Ahora solo pienso en cortar los hongos!!!!

Es Cierto

---

Jefferson Airplane - Lather




Lather was thirty years old today,
They took away all of his toys.
His mother sent newspaper clippings to him,
About his old friends who'd stopped being boys.
There was Harwitz E. Green, just turned thirty-three,
His leather chair waits at the bank.
And Sergeant Dow Jones, twenty-seven years old,
Commanding his very own tank.
But Lather still finds it a nice thing to do,
To lie about nude in the sand,
Drawing pictures of mountains that look like bumps,
And thrashing the air with his hands.


But wait, oh Lather's productive you know,
He produces the finest of sound,
Putting drumsticks on either side of his nose,
Snorting the best licks in town,
But that's all over...


Lather was thirty years old today,
And Lather came foam from his tongue.
He looked at me eyes wide and plainly said,
Is it true that I'm no longer young?
And the children call him famous,
what the old men call insane,
And sometimes he's so nameless,
That he hardly knows which game to play...
Which words to say...
And I should have told him, "No, you're not old."
And I should have let him go on...smiling...baby-wide.