In 1987 I was I was four feet small
If you told me when you’re older I’d say play baseball
three meals, a ceiling and four brick walls
thirty years later it doesn’t matter much at all
I never did get married nor ever get divorced
the Fat Man told his brother never gamble on a horse
I raised eight thousand dollars while we waited on the court
Now he believes in Jesus, sells insurance by the shore
Hold on to the place where you stay
Where you hold on when your home goes away
you’re alone son, better be your own boss
no one’s going to find you to tell you you’ve lost
Loss is a drop of water, drop dead copper, you can’t stop her
Loss doesn’t follow an order chain, loss is a mop on the floor again
Loss, is a winter flower, loss is a happy hour
Loss, doesn’t stop for the born again
Loss, wakes up in the mourn again
I know what the score is baby I don’t need a tape recorder
I don’t need a court reporter, sticking up for law and order
I’ve seen the morgue in, early morning
I’ve always heard voices but I’ve learned to ignore them
Hey boss, you’re way off
You’re sheepskin coat tear it up and take it off
whatever keeps you heated isn’t breathing through the cloth
the odds are never even, even when the season’s lost
looking through that looking glass i can see the days were better
I can see the Fat Man, no one ever swung it better
Hold on to the place where you stay
Where you hold on when your home goes away
you’re alone son, better be your own boss
no one’s going to find you to tell you you’ve lost
Loss is a drop of water, drop dead copper, you can’t stop her
Loss doesn’t follow an order chain, loss is a mop on the floor again
Loss, is a winter flower, loss is a happy hour
Loss, doesn’t stop for the born again
Loss, wakes up in the mourn again