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The memories of a man in his old age
Are the deeds of a man in his prime
You shuffle in the gloom of the sick room
And talk to yourself as you die
For life is a short, warm moment
And death is a long, cold rest
You get your chance to try in the twinkling of an eye
80 years, with luck, or even less
So, all aboard for the American tour
And maybe you'll make it to the top
But mind how you go, and I can tell you, 'cause I know
You may find it hard to get off
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