tomorrow is my birthday,
i’ll be turning 64.
i wait for Vera, Chuck and Dave
to come bounding in my door.
all my promised grandchildren,
sitting on my knee.
the Beatles told me this would happen,
so it must be true, you see.
but i know they are busy,
and of course it is okay.
besides, they live in England,
and that’s a long, long way.
oh, to dream of seeing them!
flying in my own personal Concord!
a comfort ride ‘cross the Atlantic,
or - anywhere - I can afford.
or who knows? maybe The Donald
will land a chopper in my yard..
hell, there’s actually enough space for it,
but then again, he lives a bit too large.
so i'm all right right here in America,
after all, it’s just another day.
but i always wondered what might happen -
on the day of Vera, Chuck and Dave.