Holding onto some grey advice my dear
Giving my time away for some golden years
Filling your moments with the smell of a familiar language
and the beaten horse you figured dead
They show up at your house to remind you
there are still some hounds you left unfed

and it fills your mind with all the crimes
that time still hasn't brought
On occasion you search for a way to explain
there's still a way it can be fought

Racing loss is downhill from the only place that
Faded sense can release you
and oh, it's pivoting towards spent energy
and too clear an ending

and it fills your mind with all the crimes
that time still hasn't brought
On occasion you search for a way to explain
there's still a way it can be fought