A perfect man I am not, hell, I don't know if I really want to be.
Hearts have been bruised, whilst in dark festivities I revel.
Mostly I have had good times, but occasionally filled with strife.

Grey hair, wrinkles and lines on my face make me a unique trainee.
I am a work in progress, I have walked many times with the devil.
Marching to my own drum, not following the player of the fife.

Over the years on this earth, on occasion, I have wanted bolt and flee.
My dances are not over with the guy dressed in red, on a spiritual level.
So I will just carry on trying to live and let live, for the rest of my life.

Acceptance by others for who and what I am, is what sets me free.
Accepting others for who they are, I may never be granted a medal.
Spreading love and kindness to everyone, never slashing with a knife.

No I am not a perfect man, though I am distinctive, others may never see.
My friends and family are most valued, peace and harmony I will peddle.
I will try to be better each day, until the time my soul ventures to the afterlife.