The memories of a man in his old age Are the deeds of a man in his prime
You shuffle in the gloom of the sick room And talk to yourself as you die
For life is a short, warm moment And death is a long, cold rest You get your chance to try in the twinkling of an eye 80 years, with luck, or even less
So, all aboard for the American tour And maybe you'll make it to the top But mind how you go, and I can tell you 'cause I know You may find it hard to get off
