Old Man Weather - Robyn Hitchcock

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