How did I miss the turning?
A working phone box is what I'm yearning.
I found one, but the paint’s worn thin—
In its rusty shell, I feel lost within.

I thought I was still twenty,
But I’m running on empty.
The world’s all changed, feels so strange!
Has my gloss faded with age?

Hang on—where’s my wife?
How did I miss the turning?
Is there no chance of returning?

Wait. The phone is ringing!
My soul… it’s singing!

"Hello?"
"Yep… Yep… That’s me…"
"Forty-three?"
"Age is… what’s that? Just a number!"
Thanks, soul, I hear the thunder!

Time to live with no regret—
Share the love, there's life in me yet!
Goodbye, phone box, I’m off to town,
To tell the world: no need to frown.

The world stays young, love doesn’t age,
Our soul’s the compass—let’s turn the page!