Perhaps

A pot of warm coffee that's now gone cold
A loaf of bread that's now gone stale
A young baby crying who's now grown old
Some water in a jar that's now turned to ale
Everyhting gets old, everything goes krap, with a lack of taste and a
pat on the back
Well grow old gracefully and so will our possessions, we shall forget
and also be forgotten by people?maybe
by the world? absulutely
by the everlasting footprints we left in forgotten peoples
souls?never