Speak to Me

The memories of a man in his old age Are the deeds of a man in his prime You shuffle in the gloom of the sick room And talk to yourself as you die For 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 80 years, with luck, or even less So, all aboard for the American tour And maybe you'll make it to the top But mind how you go, and I can tell you, 'cause I know You may find it hard to get off