 When I run into friends of mine I haven't seen in years,
They give me the once over then their eyes well up with tears.
Then they pronounce me 'looking great', I haven't changed a bit,
I flash 'em back a feeble smile: I know I look like shit.
'Cos I saw myself this morning, phew, and I know of what I speak.
I'm a human being, but I look like I reek.
And a weaker bathroom lightbulb just might take care of it,
'Cos the mirror shatters your illusions when you look like shit.
Shit comes in different colours, and consistencies,
I guess that I'm just aging like the finest wines and cheeses.
The guy that's me, who's in my dreams, is twenty-five or six,
I'm old enough to be his dad, how's that for parlour tricks?
Life's a job you're fired from, unless of course you quit,
Gee, I wonder if that old blind guy knows that he looks like shit?
Let's ask him!
'Scuse me? No, over here!
Although I know it's natural, I still can't understand.
Once I looked like a million bucks, now, more like two grand.
We start out with a lot of time, but what happens to it?
Times flies when you fuck around and then you look like shit!
Oh, ain't it the truth, brothers and sisters?
Shit comes in different colours, and consistencies,
'Shit's a gift we make', Freud said, 'here, take mine won't you please?'
Growing old ain't easy, it's a process so they say.
We proceed to our grand finales, every single day.
But dying doesn't worry me, I'm not bothered a bit,
I just don't like the thought of lying there looking like shit!
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