|
I am growing older,
My hair has turned gray,
So one request before I go,
I wish to go this way,
Belt me in my Mustang,
Then fill the tank with gas,
Polish up the outside
Don't forget the glass,
Set the cruise control on eighty
Then release the brakes,
Tell St. Peter I'm on my way
To open up the gates,
Don't grieve for me my friends
For I'll be having lots of fun,
Look for me across the skies
Racing with the sun.
|
