Light colours

Welcome to a brand new day.
My hair has just told me
that I'm getting old.
God - am I going grey?
I'm not as vain as Dorian
I could never be more sarcastic
than wilde master Oscar, but hey!
I can curse in and out of a football match
in more than one language - how mature...
Isn't it true that no matter what I say
or how hard I pray at night
I'll never be able to stop time?
I don't really know if nowadays
this nice old fella's on my side
but trust me on this one thing:
THERE'S NOTHING BUT TODAY
The old dilemma echoes and remains:
Do words die or begin to live when they're said?
Between my grey hair and Emily's "precarious gait"
my mind wanders around... I sigh and imagine the next stage:
I may dye or die, but I know the first conditional rules
each and every step along the way...
If someday we agree on that
I might be ready to let experience take over
and fill me with wisdom and wrinkles -
there's always a price to be paid
there's always a reason to celebrate
there's always the right time to break free
there'll always be a chance... to break away...