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 bitch
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