My jeans are tearin' at the seams,
Ain't got a buck to buy 'em new.
Guess I'll have to patch 'em up
For another year's wear and tear.
That's how we all live on;
Mending and tending old wounds.
Somehow, we all get on;
Replacing patches 'til they come undone.

On days when skies are dreary,
I look beyond the gray clouds.
In the back of my closet are those ripped jeans,
Crumpled and worn,
But they feel so right.
They still manage to hold together
While everything else falls apart.

That ***** denim tells a story
Carries all the good times and bad.
Even with the holes and stitches,
They hug me warmly like a glove.
Even in their frayed and tattered disarray,
They have helped me carry on.

Even though those jeans
Don't really look like much,
I know that they're invincible.
Those jeans are like a reflection
Of the meanders in the river of my being.
Those jeans seem to be all I need.