Dogs (Short Version)

You've got to be crazy
You've got to have a real need
You've got to sleep on your toes
When you're on the street
You've got to be able
To pick out the easy meat
With your eyes closed
Then moving in silently
Downwind and out of sight
You've got to strike
When the moment is right
Without thinking
And after a while
You can work up a punchable style
Like the clock dial
The firm handshake
The sudden look in the eye
The easy smile
You have to be trusted
By the people that you lie to
So that when they turn
Their backs on you
You get the chance to put their knife in
You've got to keep one hand
Looking over your shoulder
You know it's going to get harder
Harder and harder
As you get older
But in the end you pack up
Fly down south
Hide your head in the sand
Just another sad old man
All alone
Dying of cancer