The days of wine and roses are distant days for me
I dream of the last and the next affair and of girls I'll never see
And here I sit, the retired writer in the sun,
The retired writer in the sun and I'm blue,
The retired writer in the sun
Tonight I trod in the starlight, I excused myself with a grin
I ponder the moon in a silver spoon and the little one 'live within
And here I sit, the retired writer in the sun,
The retired writer in the sun
The magazine girl poses on my glossy paper aeroplane
Too many years I spent in the City playing with Mr Loss and Gain
And here I sit, the retired writer in the sun,
The retired writer in the sun and I'm blue,
The retired writer in the sun
I bathe in the sun of the morning, lemon circles swim in the tea
Fishing for time with a wishing line and throwing it back in the sea
And here I sit, the retired writer in the sun,
The retired writer in the sun and I'm blue,
The retired writer in the sun