Robyn Hitchcock - Old Man Weather

Summer's high and the nights are drawing in
You feel it in your skin
But no-one’s suffering

There's a breeze catching in your sail
There used to be a gale

Old (old)
Man (man)
Weather (weather)
Old (old)
Man (man)
Weather (weather)

I was there when the invitations came
They misspelled your name
But you went just the same

Every time you hear that ringing bell
You wake up face down in hell

Old (old)
Man (man)
Weather (weather)

Old (old)
Man (man)
Weather (weather)
Summer's gone the afternoons are warm
Beneath the purple storm
The young hatch out and swarm

Old (old)
Man (man)
Weather (weather)

Old (old)
Man (man)
Weather (weather)

Old (old)
Man (man)
Weather (weather)
There’s a demon in your soul
With it's fingernails of gold gold
The rise the fall

Old (old)
Man (man)
Weather (weather)

Old (old)
Man (man)
Weather (weather)

Old (old)
Man (man)
Weather (weather)

Bring it on

Written by:
Robyn Hitchcock

Publisher:
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management

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