Skipping With the Old Man.
When he swings that scythe I jump.
But I am not jumping as high as I used to.
One two three and a pepper, no that is kid stuff, three is ok but a pepper would kill me.
I am three score and ten past my use day date. I got Rock rattles and roll, bless my soul, I got the blues.
There’s a heart ache tonight I can’t sleep.
I get up in the morning it’s the same old thing.
Industrial disease has taken its toll.
Imagine no cuts and scars to show for every ship I sent below and all the schooners I sank, this is the hang-over.
Sitting on the dock of the bay, just watching the tide roll away, wasting time.
To sleep per chance to dream, about a beautiful paradise in the sky, with angles and a somewhere over the rainbow coloured flower garden. Why are we wasting time, let’s go.