Count Your Calfs

When you're comfortable
you sit and smolder
You sit at home
with the paper and a bottle of Southern Comfort
You just can't be bothered
And if an old regret
snakes its way through
You just do what the others do
You set your mind to looking forward
You do what you've got to do
But then you feel sometimes
that you're getting older
You can't have much time
left to ignore it:
You're cold
Then you fall asleep
counting your calfs
and the offerings they need
to keep you placid
and cold
You've got a house, your pride, a fence, a pool, a bar, a clique, a mirror and a satellite
to keep you occupied
You have kids, a wife, a job, a future
if you have sense He could've made it into something valuable
But you sold yourself short
Still you feel sometimes
that you're getting older
you can't have much time
left to ignore it:
You're cold
Then you fall asleep
counting your calfs
and the offerings they need
to keep you placid
and cold
You feel sometimes
that you're getting older
You can't have much time
left to ignore it:
You're cold
Then you count your calfs
and their golden teeth
and they keep you guessing
until you wake up cold