Now scarecrow-like he goes To the doctor twice a month And restrings guitars at Thursday lunchtimes Sitting in slippers while the olive trees grow Outdoors where the crickets chime Inside, he, that rockstar
Still, it's going on, it's going on Still, it's going on, it's going on
Merry chaps aren't they? And it's probably a night Dawdling, shuffling to the door To turn it in and hit the hay Since nobody's keeping score And we think he's done enough
Still, it's going on, it's going on Still, it's going on, it's going on
It's going on, still