My uncle got a set of golf clubs on his birthday

We talked on the telephone last night, he said we ought to play

And I've never played a game in my life, but I said, I said okay

When we played I was like a castaway

And my uncle, he smiled at me the whole time

'Twas only midday and we both sweat like pigs

And now we, we drift away

And I'll never be good at golf

You can put that in your screenplay

It's something you can write off

I'll never be good at golf

Rich men, who are nothing like me, sit out on the lawn

Smoking their fancy cigars with their sweet broads and mercedes

And seeing them kind of makes me wish sort of makes me dream, but I

I'll never be good at golf

I'm just a piece of (shit/ millenial) who talks

I'll close my eyes to all their fame

And I'll fly so far away

I'll fly slowly

And I'll fly so far away