All Downhill From Here

 

The summer I was twenty was the time I saw things clear,

A motorbike and rock and roll and all downhill from here,

A girlfriend with the wilder streak who’s scent was like the night,

And I was Ajax sword in hand to set the world to right.

 

We sang of revolution and we revelled in our youth,

For we had faith and fortitude and we had power and truth,

For we were British right or wrong our place was at the top,

No place for johnny foreigner, the cream of every crop.

 

The summer I was thirty I had mapped out my career,

The father of two children it was all downhill from here,

You can’t expect a Rolls Royce but you’ve got the company car,

And the mortgage leaves you pennies you’re collecting in a jar.

 

The mistresses you’ve hidden on the corporate account,

A booming brave economy that never makes you doubt,

A fugitive from real and true, a slave to business greed,

And always what you really want and never what you need.

 

The summer I was forty was the time to stand and jeer,

It seemed I’d almost made it and its all downhill from here,

I watched my school contemporaries all slide the greasy pole,

And combed the grey in shattered locks that once were black as coal.

 

The fees for education that the state could not provide,

Not really a necessity but some small cause for pride,

With interest rates at twelve percent, a balance in the red,

And many many sleepless nights in many a lonely bed.

 

The summer I was fifty I was made morose by fear,

Both heavier and weaker it was all downhill from here,

I learned that two old schoolmates were as worm-food in the grave,

And pain within the troubled heart bode nothing sure to save.

 

The salutary warnings and the serpents tooth of pain,

The gold ring of redemption and the passion without stain,

The chalice of beginnings and the wholesome bread of truth,

And light within the tunnel that is evidence and proof.

 

The summer I was sixty gave a different star to steer.

Thank god I see retirement and its all downhill from here,

The goals that once were precious were a gilded leaden chain,

And little of ambitions lust has fortune, price or pain.

 

For now I have the pleasure of the comfortable and dear,

And though it may be all down hill, and all down hill from here,

Though memory has gentle slopes and precipices steep,

It sets within the consciousness, a winding way to keep.