Now.

Now it’s time to grow up,
But who’d ‘a thought that meant bills?
The windows leak my money to the street.
A sheet of plastic cures my blues.

Lord! Grow’n up seemed such a treat
When I was yet to drive,
Bricks were tied to my feet.
The roads the were short and narrow.

But now the drive is in the dark
And I come home, the lights turned off.
Can’t keep them burning
Money, now in short supply.