Tom: Em
Em D A
Sun streaking cold an old man wandring lonely,
Am Em D
taking time the only way he knows.
Em D A
Legs hurting bad as he bends to pick a dog end .
Am Em D
He goes down to the bog and warms his feet.
Em D A
Feeling alone the army's up the road,
Am Em D
salvation a la mode and a cup of tea.
Em D A
Aqualung my friend, don't you start away uneasy.
Am Em F
You poor old sod see it's only me.
Em D Em
Do you still remember Decembers foggy freeze
D
when the ice that clings onto your beard
Em
was screaming agony?
D Em
And your ratling last breaths with deepseadiver sounds
Am D
and the flowers bloom like madness in the spring.
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