Interpret:

Pink Floyd

Album:

Works (Compilation Album)

The mem'ries of a man in his old age 
Are the deeds of a man in his prime 
You shuffle in gloom in the sick room 
And talk to yourself as you die 
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 
And mind how you go 
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 
And he was burried like a mole in a fox hole 
And ev'ryone is still on the run 
And who is the master of fox hounds? 
And who says the hunt has begun? 
And who calls the tune in the courtroom? 
And who beats the funeral drum? 
The mem'ries of a man in his old age 
Are the deeds of a man in his prime 
You shuffle in gloom in the sick room 
And talk to yourself as you die