Jack is a rusted old man

There's a rusted old man worn down with age
calloused and harassed a rough old sage
piercing eyes scorched wrinkled by the sun
hands in his pocket as if to say sod it
Cos his time is coming and he's nearly done
sits a rocking in a chair as creaky as he
bits a dropping off, hair and as cranky as can be
Only the truly lonely know what cranky is all about
Stands or for a change sits then stands up
hands that worked miracles now it's a miracle
they even work. Work he once knew, knew good
toil becomes toilet troubles and his body is rubble
an old ruined site on the worry all night
crinkled up groove face just sitting as his place

So alone only his bones are his friends till it ends
talks to each rib that juts out like an angry teenager
sees his hollows like chasms over dug pitholes
where life's ravaged cruelty hammers blows and knocks
Trapped and cut out from exciting parties, in a box
snapped as no one wants him no one ever did
so he walls himself up in his house and shuts the lid
Gave up raging and crying and pulling his eyes with his hands
wringing and moaning best bury yourself in the sand
Like a fun day family style at the grainy yet soft beach
only clad in a dark suit and sombre. Cracked grain voice
made sonorous and ominous with fear and ache
Now he's a mouldy past it old wrecked sponge cake

Chuck him out, feed his body to the birds
Cos he ain't respected any better than turds
A face with so many bags Fendi could sell 'em
a face with so many crags he could glue himself
On the beach with the nice family day out
A face of a clock gone into time spinning shock
a rumpled elephant's bottom with pendulous jowl
a face so haggard it should be covered in a cowl
a face so weathered life storms an upset bowel
It's time my old boy to thrown in the towel
but even that would go wrong.