In a dog's life
A year is really more like seven
And all too soon a canine

Will be chasing cars in doggie heaven

It seems to me

As we make our own few circles 'round the sun
We get it backwards
And our seven years go by like one


Dog years...It's the season of the itch
Dog years...With every scratch it reappears


In the dog days
People look to Sirius

Dogs cry for the moon
But these connections are mysterious


It seems to me
While it's true that every dog will have his day
When all the bones are buried

There is barely time to go outside and play

Dog years...It's the season of the itch

Dog years...With every scratch it reappears
Dog years...For every sad son of a (*##$
Dog years...With his tail between his ears


I'd rather be a tortoise from Galapagos
Or a span of geological time

Than be living in these dog years

In a dog's brain

A constant buzz of low level static
One sniff at the hydrant
And the answer is automatic


It seems to me
As well make our own few circles 'round the block

We've lost our senses
For the higher level static of talk