An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
And isn't it ironic... don't you think...
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
"Well isn't this nice..."
And isn't it ironic... don't you think