| Sitting on a park bench
|
| Eyeing little girls with bad intent
|
| Snot running down his nose
|
| Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes
|
| Hey, Aqualung
|
| Drying in the cold sun
|
| Watching as the frilly panties run
|
| Hey, Aqualung
|
| Feeling like a dead duck
|
| Spitting out pieces of his broken luck
|
| Whoa, Aqualung
|
| Sun streaking cold, an old man wandering lonely
|
| Taking time the only way he knows
|
| Leg hurting bad as he bends to pick a dog-end
|
| He goes down to the bog and warms his feet
|
| Feeling alone, the army’s up the road
|
| Salvation a la mode and a cup of tea
|
| Aqualung my friend, don’t you start away uneasy
|
| You poor old sod, you see, it’s only me
|
| Do you still remember
|
| December’s foggy freeze?
|
| When the ice that
|
| Clings on to your beard was
|
| Screaming agony (Hey!)
|
| And you snatch your rattling last breaths
|
| With deep-sea-diver sounds
|
| And the flowers bloom like
|
| Madness in the spring
|
| Sun streaking cold, an old man wandering lonely
|
| Taking time the only way he knows
|
| Leg hurting bad as he bends to pick a dog-end
|
| He goes down to the bog and warms his feet
|
| Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
|
| Feeling alone, the army’s up the road
|
| Salvation a la mode and a cup of tea
|
| Aqualung my friend, don’t you start away uneasy
|
| You poor old sod, you see, it’s only me
|
| Me-me-me-me-me
|
| Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
|
| Dee-dee-dee-dee
|
| Dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee
|
| Dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee
|
| Dee-dee-dee-dee
|
| Aqualung, my friend, don’t you start away uneasy
|
| You poor old sod, you see, it’s only me
|
| Sitting on a park bench
|
| Eyeing little girls with bad intent
|
| Snot running down his nose
|
| Greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes
|
| Hey, Aqualung
|
| Drying in the cold sun
|
| Watching as the frilly panties run
|
| Hey, Aqualung
|
| Feeling like a dead duck
|
| Spitting out pieces of his broken luck
|
| Hey, Aqualung
|
| Whoa, Aqualung |