Texty písní Soul Asylum Hang Time Ode

Ode

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Well, my friend Jud, he was a fuddy-dud
Chewed his cud, he was a stick in the mud
I swear he hated everyone

And he's bumming nickels and bumming dimes
But most of all, you know, he's just bumming time

And every day was a bad day
They walked out and on and over him
He was turning gray

Never knew love, he gave up on hope
Stayed in bed and stopped using soap, was a dirty old man
But he never said "Poor little old me"
Poor, poor

Well, one fine day won the lottery
Instant millionaire without a care
It didn't change a thing
Drove out to Reno, he lost everything at a roadside casino
You know he never made it into town
Where the bright lights trickled down
He was a ca—, ca— ca—, ca— ca— ca—, ca— ca— casualty, yeah

Well, he stewed and brewed and he ran out of food
And all he got was more lewd and crude
He was very rude
The only thing he hated worse than the city
Was charity and self-pity
He'd been around
I talked to him, that's what I found
Was a ca—, ca— ca—, ca— ca— ca—, ca— ca— casu—

Poor little ol' me
Poor poor casualty
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