Тональность: A minor
Verse 1
F#m
What is happening?
What is up?
Things sure are different
E
than when I was a pup.
Five dollar hot dogs,
strange fancy beers,
young skinny boys with their pants
Em
below their rears,
D
G
young pretty girls who cov
D
G
Em
er up their hair,
bearded lumberjacks
D
F#m
everywhere.
Nowadays things aren't
what they used to be.
E
You don't see all the things
you used to see.
This wasn't what the place was meant to be.
Em
E
Bm
I feel like I'm living in another century.
E
D
G
D
Not sure if it's a new or an old one.
Em
A modest or a bold one.
C
Am
Maybe I'll move to that
Bm
Em
place on the shore.
Bm
A
Em
Not sure I can take this place anymore.
F#m
But I'm not sure about the
sound of the sea
C#m
That's the kind of thing
that could really get to me
F#m
Call me a curmudgeon,
call me a nuisance
When I was a boy,
E
a hot dog cost a few cents
A jar of pickles cost a dollar and a half
Bm
E
Now I see a jar for ten,
don't make me laugh
D
G
What did you say?
D
G
It's artisanal?
D
Em
What does that mean?
It's medicinal?
E
F#m
When I was a young man
there were like three beers,
now there are breweries
E
coming out your ears.
Every bar I step into has another
D
Em
micro -brew.
D
G
D
G
Hearty lager, frothy ale,
Em
D
muddy brown or deadly pale.
C
Am
Maybe I should go down
Em
Bm
G
A
move in with my sister
D
G
Em
down in Florida.
F#m
A
Sit in swelter in tropical heat
F#m
C#m
All the people down there,
A
F#m
they don't know how to eat
A
E
A
An d what's with those kids
and the crazy things they wear?
with scarves on their hair
F#m
Don't they know that's
their prettiest part?
E
The best way to reach a
young man's heart
A
And these boys on skateboards
with hats and sunglasses
E
Loose -fitting jeans
that sag below their asses
F#m
I can't think of nothing more obnoxious
E
Than the sight of a teen
C#m
E
ager 's boxers
C
Am
Maybe I'll stay with my
Bm
Em
son on Long Island
D
A
G
Em
There at least the streets are silent
F#m
But what would I do?
F#m
It's too quiet there,
F#m
Now don't get me started
on the guys with bushy beards
E
That's a look that I find a little weird
Every guy's a mix
Bm
of Paul Bunyan and Walt Whitman
E
It's enough to make me
want to call a hitman
D
G
Like we used to do in the good old days
F#m
Em
There was nothing wrong
F#m
F#sus4
F#m
E
Bm
G
D
F#m
with the good old days
F#sus4
F#m
C#m
E
G#m
E
A
E
A
E
D
E
F#m
E
I'm too old to change,
don't tell me I'm not
I'll just sit here in my shady spot
D
G
D
G
On my bench here by the park
F#m
Em
Where I've always left my mark
F#m
And who knows,
maybe I'll exchange a couple sneers
With the skinny kids with their
E
pants below their rears
Smile at the Muslim girls
Em
Bm
and sweet young dears
E
Try me one of them fancy beers
F#m
Say how are you to a passing lumberjack
E
See if he might say how are you back
Decide things aren't quite as bad as I feared
Bm
But I won't, won't, won't, won't,
F#m
F#sus4
F#m
won't, won't, won't
Forget about it
Outro 1
F#m
F#m
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