A song called “Old”. I’ve coined a new musical genre, as you do, for this song – Plantagenet. It seemed both timely with the rescuing of Richard III from his carpark grave in Leicester and appropriate for this muse on mortality. The sounds of the clock chiming and the dog are from my childhood home.
The line “Old, I don’t wanna be, lying awake scared of burglary” sometimes gets misheard as “scared of buggery”.
I don’t mind this addition of sexual paranoia, though it wasn’t intended. The listener’s mind completes the work.