I walk right past his window when the light is growing dim
He looks away from me and as I glance in at him
He owns one bed, one bookcase and the television
He sits and watches and Iâm glad Iâm not there with him
There was a time when he was young
There was a time when he had no time to regret what heâd done
There are six men on the ground floor
Three stories up and there are sixteen more
And the stories they tell you think youâve heard before
But listen closely, to be sure
There was a time when they were young
There was a time when they had no time to regret what theyâd done
I see him on the street in the cold
He nods as if to greet me, I feel too young, and he too old
He is a nameless face to me
This is his hiding place I see
He talks to himself, I can see his breath
Sixteen rooms, sixteen men off the meth
There was a time when they were young
There was a time when they had no time to regret what theyâd done
- :
- First Frost
- Warmer Corners
- Naturaliste
- Where Were We?
- Staring At The Sky
- Happy Secret
- What Bird Is That?
- The Green Bicycle Case
- Boondoggle
- Miscellaneous
- A Good Kind Of Nervous
- First Tape
- Spring a Leak
- Get-to-Bed Birds
- The Matinée Grand Prix
- Cartography for Beginners
- Midweek Midmorning
- T-Shirt Weather
- A Boy, a Girl, and a Rendezvous
- Romantic and Square Is Hip and Aware: A Matinée Tribute...