Aqualung sing and play along

Sitting on a park bench,

eyeing little girls with bad intent,

snot is running down his nose,

greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.

Hey, Aqualung.

Drying in the cold sun,

watching as the frilly panties run.

Hey, Aqualung.

Feeling like a dead duck,

spitting out pieces of his broken luck.

Oh, Aqualung.

Sun streaking cold,

an old man wand'ring lonely,

sal taking time the only way cup he knows.

Legs ua hurting bad

as he bends to pick a dogend.

He goes down to the bog and warms his feet.

Feeling alone, the army's up the road,

ly, sal vation a la mode and a cup of tea.

Aqualung, my friend,

don't you 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 onto your beard was screaming agony?

And you snatch your rattling last breaths with deepseadiver sounds and the flowers bloom like madness in the spring.

Oh,

Aqualung.