Spiritual Front - Song for the Old Man lyrics

[Spiritual Front - Song for the Old Man lyrics]

How much sand in your boots?
How much dry bread in teeths?
Everyday is longest day
Or maybe the day you will never forget
God didn't save you from the
Luck of a rich marriage
Nor your dictator saved you from
The big glorious war
But maybe you were saved just
Because you've never never believed
No saint has guided your wrinkle hand
But one hundred whores has
Driven your shining cars
I will sing my worst southAmerican
Song at your funeral
I will song my worst southAmerican
Song at your funeral my old man

Twenty years in the tropics
One hundred years of regrets
Life is to long to repent


And too short to deify the bitterness
Your ironed shirt, your brushed hair
Your perfect dye go beyond
Every political convinction and
Against every classfight
I loved your style and your hatred
For your hatred for mediocrity
God will not give you a honoured place
But he will envy your shined shoes

I will sing my worst southAmerican
Song at your funeral
I will song my worst southAmerican
Song at your funeral my old man

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