My Father's Clouds

Richard Hawley and a comfy chair All my friends sitting across from me, yeah A bowl of chips between the six of us A pint, a coffee, or a mug of tea Later on, we'll move outside Into a cloud of smoking chit chat Some bitch on the balcony is talking smack And a black cat appears down the rusted roof You did the same when you were my age Now I'm in the shadow of my father's clouds My father's clouds, my father's clouds, my father's clouds And on a Saturday morning When we're supposed to be sleeping Here I am with you Drinking coffee with your friends And talking about Leonard Cohen And all the other acts above our heads Well young John where would you rather be Thirty years later with your son Sitting in the same cloud of smoking chit chat You raised me as my father's son You did the same when you were my age Now I'm in the shadow of my father's clouds My father's clouds, my father's clouds, my father's clouds