Aqualung (Letra)
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.
