The birds sing and the sky dims False dusk is coming And a regal old fat ass robin sits on the pigpen fence

The buzz files through my brain The malt is strong with this one And the sinking sun makes me think of times long since

The old man and the sea and me The line and tug and scales and bone And the thinking son takes me back to the past long tense

Where the white bass roamed and rock bass hid under shelves of stone