| Lyrics: | The days of wine and roses are distant days for me.
I dream of the last and the next affair and
of girls I'll never see.
And here I sit, the retired writer in the sun,
The retired writer
in the sun and I'm blue,
The retired writer in the sun.
Tonight I trod in the
starlight, I excused myself with a grin.
I ponder the moon in a silver spoon and the little one
'live within.
And here I sit, the retired writer in the sun,
The retired writer in the
sun.
The magazine girl poses on my glossy paper aeroplane
Too many years I spent in
the City playing with Mr. Loss and Gain.
And here I sit, the retired writer in the
sun,
The retired writer in the sun and I'm blue,
The retired writer in the
sun.
I bathe in the sun of the morning, lemon circles swim in the tea
Fishing for
time with a wishing line and throwing it back in the sea.
And here I sit, the retired writer in
the sun,
The retired writer in the sun and I'm blue,
The retired writer in the sun |
