When I was a young boy I'd drive out to the city and Lose my way until the dawn Oh, how free I felt There was room left on my belt Oh how good it felt to be young
Walking, talking, drinking Living, lying, and never thinking Always led me to only feeling low When low is all you have It just serves to make you mad So I wound up my living and let it go
Young men are always getting older Old men are always inching closer And time is the last friend That we see before we go home
Lately all this living's taking all that I can give it Leaving little for my broken hands to hold Just the devil and his deals And they're nipping at my heels Oh how strange it feels getting old
Young men are always getting older Old men are always inching closer And time is the last friend That we see before we go home
Life will let out quickly For the well and for the sickly 'Cause the best of us are Merely skin and bone But when moth and rust destroy We look forward to coming joys When death in his long reign Is overthrown
Young men are always getting older Old men are always inching closer And love is the first friend That we'll see when we get homeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
