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

Writer : ROBERT ARTHUR MOULD
Copyright : Lyrics © BUG MUSIC