M.C. Frontalot - This Old Man [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[verse 1]
Keep getting older and hairier
On my neck, back and derriere
But not atop the pate
Dear DNA, let’s negotiate!

I’ll trade the fading vision, you could have that back
Plus this 30-year-old-man belly’s kinda wack
My hearing is nearing deafness and I wheeze
Yo, please save me from the wrist hurt disease!
It’s infeasible that these, a full list of ailments
Should do anything but accrue. I’ll fail ten
Times out of ten to age in reverse like Mork
Is there anything sadder than a dork
For whom the new hotness is not just inaccessible
It’s grumbled against? You kids, reduce your decibels!
Don’t make me come over there and shake my cane
(It’s that rapper from the AARP and he’s insane!)

[Hook]
This old man, he rhymed once
He put up some valiant fronts
With a wick-wack bitter lack of youthfulness & charm
This old man kept rhyming on

[verse 2]
Joints creaking while I squeak around the stage
Hella grandmothers telling me I ought to act my age
Deranged already, I don’t got no brain medicine
If we were running out of food on a boat, I’d get jettisoned
Or eaten. I’m unsweetened
Don’t tell me that I got the shortest straw; I’m not a cretin
Just a little senile and gassy and slow
But I bet I’m very salty! And I could still row
Let’s gobble on that infant. Infants are useless
(also very soft, which is good, ‘cause I’m toothless)
Come on kids, you want to get rescued or what?
Don’t mumble all amongst yourselves. Speak up!
(I lost my earhorn the other day on the bus.)
You would think by the way you whippersnappers make a fuss
That I said something crazy, profound or obscene
Wait, where’d the ocean go? Where have you taken me?

[Hook]
This old man, he rhymed twice
He found this would not suffice
With a wick-wack bitter lack of youthfulness & vim
This old man was dour and grim

[verse 3]
Now Frontalot’s shopping for the top of the hill
Should have bought a burial plot soon as I got ill
But I foolishly thought that I could put it off;
Now I’m ghoulishly fraught with a [cough cough cough]
Soft in the head, hard in the disposition:
How’d I earn this intractable attrition
Of the vigor that I figured would be mine for life?
Is there no upside? Well, the rhymes are rife!
Every year I’m alive, add to my vocabulary
Going to do it till I’m staring at the ceiling in the mortuary
Plus I’m probably wise by now
And could do all the things old people talk about
Like: count pills; argue bills at diners;
Get a little tiny funky car and be a Shriner;
Go to the haberdasher so I could look dapper;
Get stroke and forget I’m too old to be a rapper

[Hook]
This old man, he rhymed thrice
He spoke a thin gruel of lies
With a wick-wack bitter lack of youthfulness & spunk
This old man’s rhymes was bunk

This old man, he rhymed lots;
Rhymed till he grew liver spots
With a wick-wack bitter lack of youthfulness & cheer
Why he rhymed remains unclear