Speak To Me

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
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
You are the angel of death
and I am the dead man's son
He was buried like a mole in a fox hole
And everyone's still on the run

Breathe, breathe in the air
Don't be afraid to care
Leave, but don't leave me
Look around and choose your own ground

For long you live and high you fly
Smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry
And all you touch and all you see
Is all your life will ever be

Run, rabbit, run
Dig that hole, forget the sun
And when at last the work is done
Don't sit down, it's time to dig another one

For long you live and high you fly
But only if you ride the tide
And balanced on the biggest wave
You race towards an early grave