Shellac Tissue Paper?

This youth that I forget.
I forget what it means to be energized, excited, the smell of passion.
forget the pleasure of the sweets, I will lose little by little, the flavor of life.
The colors are a bit 'more gray, the most difficult step, the results more hotels ... boring.
Already I see the time, a moment, will shrink, but it is already past.
I speak of my loves as if they were all that I have, but my life is for three quarters in my head. What have I done when I'm really old, the brain then I do not obey, they will go all the illusions. Ninete flights of fancy, only the arthritic bones.
And the memory of what I have not really done.