If I live to be a hundred
I’ll say my secret was the cigarettes.
Will he live to be a hundred?
What have I got to lose, sure I’ll take that bet.
CHORUS
Friends are dropping like flying
over yonder friends I’m here for you.
And if we’re talking about dying
oh I’m a goner my love, til then, I do.
Well I think it’s getting colder.
It’s hard to say any more.
Either I am getting older
or the world is off to war.
Bridge:
Long story short but sweet
what falls in the forest,
lands in the street.
Bugged out baby come rest your sweet head
beneath the stars for a blanket,
gravel for a bed.
Down by the water,
I’ll be writing it all down.
Notes from the slaughter.
Lines from the sound.