Jethro Tull - Aqualung
Sitting on a park bencheyeing up little girlswith bad intent.Snot running down his nosegreasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.Drying in the cold sunWatching as the frilly panties run.Feeling like a dead duckspitting out pieces of his broken luck.Sun streaking coldan old man wandering lonely.Taking timethe only way he knows.Leg hurting bad,as he bends to pick a dog endgoes down to a bog towarm his feet.Feeling alonethe army's up the rodesalvation a la mode anda cup of tea.Aqualung my frienddon't start away uneasy