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The Guy I Used To Be

You’re not looking at the guy I used to be

I could jackknife off a rope, swinging from a tree

Swim beneath the river ‘til I reached the other side

Naked in a gang of friends with nothing left to hide

Everyone would get a tan, but I was always fried

If someone told you different, well... he lied

My car could hold a dozen people packed

In the trunk and under blankets for a drive-in show attack

I once snuck in the exit under cover of the night

A guy pulled up behind and I yelled: “Man! Turn off your lights!”

It was the cops and long before they heard that we had rights

They dragged us off to jail without a fight

I once ate five pig sandwiches for lunch

I never learned to fight but I could really take a punch

I could squat three hundred pounds, and maybe bench-press four

I drank my way down Clinton Street, hit every swinging door

Along the way I danced with girls I coaxed out to the floor

But I am not that kind of yahoo any more

Everything began to change somehow

Instead of cussing now I say “Gol dang!” or “Holy cow!”

The trout still bite at daybreak, but I remain asleep

I can't find my shovel when the snow is getting deep

Don’t bother me with music by some phony gangsta creep

On top of that they say I’m getting cheap

I’d not be standing here for you to see

But I just got shot with cortisone, arthritis in my knee

An unappreciated, overmedicated, superannuated soul

Skipping meds to keep away from that dreaded donut hole

The top half of my heart don’t beat, it’s just worms in a bowl

I’m the last guy who will ever shout “Let’s roll!”

So come and join me in my memory

You’ll be grinning, tanned and toned, swinging off that tree

Watch a minor league Whitey Ford striking out the side

Pass the hat for two bucks in gas to take an all-day ride

You won’t have a care or know a single friend who’s died

Just hop in my old Dodge, I’ll be your guide