Lyrics:

Mr Weatherbeaten hasn't eaten since February
An attack of dysentery left him very weary
Of anything but baby food and milk from a bottle
No one reads the paper to him
His hearing aid is turned on ten
His eyes won't read what he has written
Talks to himself in the morning
'I made a Halloween costume when I was 11
All painted black fluorescent, pink mitts
And the yellow shoes
I scared my mother so much she died six months later
My father died behind a plough
While I was off feeding a cow
And no one left but me to bring the crops in
I worked hard
Went to school
Got a job
And a 25 year button.'

He's wearing thin masonic pin
Waiting for someone to understand him
And show how much he really loves the land that he lives in
Nothing today is nice to see
When you are 73

In his flower pot, coughs a lot
Is sometimes cold and sometimes hot
Would rather stay home than rather not

Counting red cars from her window
Never felt the lightning in her thighs
Never felt a man's shining eyes
Living alone in a one room flat
Two hot plates, glass figurines
A candle collection, a photo of her grandfather, a man of some means
The Wheeling West Virginian

No one sees her come and go
A doctor and some small children
Outside her window
They wrote words in white chalk on her door
Not anymore
She had them all arrested

Her gold ring turned brown
Merry-go-round
Nothing today is nice anymore
When you are 74