Sitting on a park bench eyeing little girls with bad intent. Snot running down his nose greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes. Drying in the cold sun Watching as the frilly panties run. Feeling like a dead duck spitting out pieces of his broken luck.
Sun streaking cold an old man wandering lonely. Taking time the only way he knows. Leg hurting bad, as he bends to pick a dog-end he goes down to the bog and warms his feet.
Feeling alone the army's up the rode salvation à la mode and a cup of tea. Aqualung my friend don't start away uneasy you poor old sod, you see, it's only me. Do you still remember December's foggy freeze when the ice that clings on to your beard is screaming agony. And you snatch your rattling last breaths with deep-sea-diver sounds, and the flowers bloom like madness in the spring.
Sitting on a park bench
ΑπάντησηΔιαγραφήeyeing little girls with bad intent.
Snot running down his nose
greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.
Drying in the cold sun
Watching as the frilly panties run.
Feeling like a dead duck
spitting out pieces of his broken luck.
Sun streaking cold
an old man wandering lonely.
Taking time
the only way he knows.
Leg hurting bad,
as he bends to pick a dog-end
he goes down to the bog
and warms his feet.
Feeling alone
the army's up the rode
salvation à la mode and
a cup of tea.
Aqualung my friend
don't start away uneasy
you poor old sod, you see, it's only me.
Do you still remember
December's foggy freeze
when the ice that
clings on to your beard is
screaming agony.
And you snatch your rattling last breaths
with deep-sea-diver sounds,
and the flowers bloom like
madness in the spring.