Dead Man's Arms

It's a January Saturday The streets are like a latter-day inferno Full of medieval saints We're all running round like rats Wooly sweaters, Christmas hats My idea of paradise this ain't Life is long Like a Dead Man's Arms What makes us feel like also rans in this human race We collect and we consume We forget then we resume And we know we can't continue at this pace About fifteen years ago, some clever bastard in the know Found a way to find computers sing like birds Now everybody's got a Cray And we stare at them all day They fill us up with never ending words Life is long Like a Dead Man's Arms And I feel like being silent is no disgrace Though I'm guilty as the next man Of believing that a text can Somehow make me feel more wanted in this place Life is long Like a Dead Man's Arms Well perhaps I'm getting older Or the trail is getting colder I don't run around the way that once I did And the world can live without Those little hooks I threw about Anyway, who am I trying to kid Life is long Like a Dead Man's Arms And I don't mind seeing wrinkles in my face I don't care for new beginnings I'll cash in and take my winnings And I'll tip the barman When I leave this place