Dear John.

Fear and Loathing tribute to John Forde turning 57.

Dear John
This is your birthday song.
57 years old, your bones are brittle, your blood is cold.
It hurts to get up in the morning,
Famly's sick of you terrible snoring.
Clock is ticking, there's no missing the fact...
You got old.
Dear John,
Why are you running what are you running from?
Embrace the bliss of alcohol soft middle age,
Don't be afraid.
The grim reaper has better running shoes
And he's catching up to you, yeah your old.
Dear John,
Someday this world will be gone,
and so will you.
Sooner than the glaciers and the trees,
and the elephants in the zoo.
The clock is ticking down,
Your 57 it's so sussed now.
The days are shorter, call the porter
Let him carry the weight, damn your aching shoulder.
Airport wheelchair, kids will push you around,
Don't frown.
Dear John.
You got old.
So old.
And cold.
So so cold.
Dear John...this is your birthday song.

Видео Dear John. канала murdoc6501