Lemongrass

Crowded by people stale as their jokes
Ages the heart just like drink and smoke
Feel as ancient as an English, an English oak
On mornings as cold as a raven's croak

I must admit I sure do miss my hair
Hippie mop, now there's nothing there
I'm old and I'm restless and full of cares
That nobody has got time to share

So sick of the road that takes me
I can't let it roll off my back

Lemongrass soup on a city street
Out of place in this moving boutique
That's more like a gloomy glitz with a madcap, a madcap beat
Blending every colour in a fuzzy heap
Blending every colour in a fuzzy heap

So sick of thе road that takes me
I can't let it roll off my back
So sick of thе road that takes me
I can't let it roll off my back

Silver-heeled winds close the day
I think I've run out of things to say