When I'm old and feeble, crowned with withered whitened hair
How puzzled I will be to learn there's no more Medicare.
The folks who came before me with their aches and pains and pills
Have gobbled up the pennies and left nothing but the bills.
There's no one working anymore my Medicare to pay;
They're all too busy hiding funds from trading on eBay.
So when I'm old and feeble and start coughing up my blood
I'll find my name is listed under just one column: MUD.
My government will not explain the wherefore or the why –
I'll simply get a postcard saying: kiss your butt goodbye.
They'll tell me they have just enough to ease me in my grave.
But if I want formaldehyde I'd better start to save!
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