Speak to Me Lyrics

The memories of a man in his old age Are the deeds of a man in his prime You shuffle in gloom of the sickroom 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: Eighty 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