Free Four testo – Pink Floyd

The memories of a man in his old ageAre the deeds of a man in his primeYou shuffle in gloom of the sickroomAnd talk to yourself as you dieLife is a short, warm momentAnd death is a long cold restYou get your chance to tryIn the twinkling of an eyeEighty years, with luck, or even lessSo all aboard for the American tourAnd maybe you'll make it to the topAnd mind how you goAnd I can tell you, 'cause I knowYou may find it hard to get offYou are the angel of deathAnd I am the dead man's sonAnd he was buried like a mole in a fox holeAnd everyone is still on the runAnd 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 memories of a man in his old ageAre the deeds of a man in his primeYou shuffle in gloom in the sickroomAnd talk to yourself till you die

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