Old Man Time Ain't No Friend Of Mine

Wake up in a room where steel guitars,

Turn to steel bars,.

You know I've lived here to long.

Try to write these songs about being bored,

Why am I so surprised when they all prove boring songs?

The second hand holds still while the hour hand slips by.

I don't know just how long I've been here.

I'll just stare out the window and contemplate the sky,

While I grow older than my years.

Plucking strings at the site of my bed,

By a stack of books most of which I've never read.

I want to capture in sound the way things are,

But I'd regret it in the morning if I smashed my guitar.

Well they're never going to tell us just what's coming around the bend,

But there's one thing I can count on,

That's that old man time is not my fucking friend.

For the reaper lurks in stillness, but motion too is death.

Me, I float between them, moving in and out to the rhythm of my breath.