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Things you know they just don’t change,
Like your favorite stains.
You just can’t get them out, now can you?
Wide eyed and closed-lipped,
A tightening chest,
And a slackening grip.

And things take awhile since I don’t sleep anymore,
On the coldest floor.
The strangest feeling that
Your glib tongue may have fooled me yet
‘Cause in your stone arms
Is as warm as I will get.

With rivers of streaming taillights,
Rolling to hell knows where,
They’ll find their houses are barely standing,
But few of them will care.
And all of those screaming sirens,
Rolling below our feet.
Lead me on and I’ll pull you closer.
We’ll see if I can sleep.

And I’m just using you for whatever I will
‘Til I’ve had my fill,
But you’ll be back next time singing
"It’s alright yea I like it that way,
It’ll turn out just fine” is all I hear you say.
And I wanted to tell you what I really saw,
But people with glass jaws shouldn’t throw punches.
So I bit my tongue, yea I swallowed my pride.
It was tough going down,
But now I’m all warm inside.

With rivers of coursing taillights…


from The Good Old Days, released January 29, 2010
Originally by Patrick Downey.


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