Moving On

My back is sore and my hands are cold
And I'm not getting any younger
My brain is melting out my ears
And I might be getting even dumber
Than I already am
That's not the plan
And if I'm old singing the same old songs
In the same old street in the same old town
Then something went extremely wrong
You might as well stick me in the ground

Oh-oh, moving on
Oh-oh, moving on
Oh-oh, moving on
Oh-oh, moving on

I knew a guy who was in his pool
And a bird dumped right onto his face
I guess that what I'm sayin is
You miss the shots that you don't take
You miss the shots that you don't take

Oh-oh, moving on
Oh-oh, moving on
Oh-oh, moving on
Oh-oh, moving on