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When I run into friends of mine I haven't seen in years, |
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They give me the once over then their eyes well up with tears. |
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Then they pronounce me 'looking great', I haven't changed a bit, |
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I flash 'em back a feeble smile: I know I look like shit. |
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'Cos I saw myself this morning, phew, and I know of what I speak. |
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I'm a human being, but I look like I reek. |
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And a weaker bathroom lightbulb just might take care of it, |
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'Cos the mirror shatters your illusions when you look like shit. |
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Shit comes in different colours, and consistencies, |
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I guess that I'm just aging like the finest wines and cheeses. |
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The guy that's me, who's in my dreams, is twenty-five or six, |
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I'm old enough to be his dad, how's that for parlour tricks? |
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Life's a job you're fired from, unless of course you quit, |
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Gee, I wonder if that old blind guy knows that he looks like shit? |
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Let's ask him! |
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'Scuse me? No, over here! |
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Although I know it's natural, I still can't understand. |
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Once I looked like a million bucks, now, more like two grand. |
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We start out with a lot of time, but what happens to it? |
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Times flies when you fuck around and then you look like shit! |
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Oh, ain't it the truth, brothers and sisters? |
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Shit comes in different colours, and consistencies, |
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'Shit's a gift we make', Freud said, 'here, take mine won't you please?' |
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Growing old ain't easy, it's a process so they say. |
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We proceed to our grand finales, every single day. |
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But dying doesn't worry me, I'm not bothered a bit, |
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I just don't like the thought of lying there looking like shit! |
