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An old man sat at the edge of a bed |
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and worried about the shape that he was in |
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People came around and opened up the ground |
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and pleaded with him just to take the hint |
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His next of kin couldn't make the drive in |
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what with work and bills to pay |
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So he stood at the back of a funeral shack |
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as they lay his body down to waste |
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Old shouldn't be that way |
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Well I hope I die before I get old |
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but not because I want to stop living |
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Because we take away the freedom from the people |
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who gave us all that we've been given |
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When I was a little boy |
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You'd take my hand and lead me home |
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Now I'm telling you what to do and where to go |
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It's the young who forget, not the |
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Old shouldn't be that way |
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Old will be you some day |
