Twenty years ago, saw a friend was walking by
And I stopped him on the street to ask him
How it went, and all he did was cry
I looked him in the face, but I couldn't see past his eyes
Asked him what the problem was, he says "Here is your disguise"

Now he's hardly getting over it
Hardly getting used to getting by

Old may lays down by the railroad tracks
Got no paper in his pocket, got no paper on his back
I asked him what the time was, he says "Hit the road now, Jack"
Went back to see him next week
He died of a heart attack and died away

Now he's hardly getting over it
Hardly getting used to getting by

Grandma, she got sick, she is going to die
And grandpa had a seizure, moved into a hotel cell and died away
My parents, they just wonder when they both are going to die
And what do I do when they die?

Now I'm hardly getting over it
Hardly getting used to getting by

Writer : ROBERT ARTHUR MOULD
Copyright : Lyrics © BUG MUSIC