Spiritual Front Song for the Old Man song lyrics

How much sand in your boots?

How much dry bread in teeth?

Everyday is the longest day

or maybe the day you will never forget

God didn’t save you from the lack of a rich, rich marriage

Nor your dictator saved you from the big glorious war

But maybe you were saved just

because you never, never believed

No saint has guided your wrinkled hand

But one hundred whores has driven your shining cars

I will sing my worst South American song at your funeral

I will song my worst South American song at your funeral.

my old man

Twenty years in the tropics

One hundred years of regrets

Life is too long to repent

and too short to deify the bitterness

Your ironed shirt, your brushed hair,

your perfect dye go beyond

Every political conviction

And against every class-fight

I loved your style and your hatred for

your hatred for mediocrity

God will not give you an honored place

but he will envy your shined shoes

I will sing my worst South American song at your funeral

I will song my worst South American song at your funeral.

my old man