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they've been still in their tracks |
|
for many's the year |
|
through watching and waiting |
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they've made their careers |
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and they've got frozen hands |
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like broken down clocks |
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they wait by the door |
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for opportunity's knock |
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-chorus- |
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they say there's a snake that can shed it's skin |
|
when the good old days are wearing thin, but |
|
the good old days have all withered and died |
|
some go on livin' on the sentimental side |
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tall tales and short stories |
|
i know i'll hear them again |
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all about the time, do you remember when? |
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we were all local legends |
|
or heores at least |
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has the truth been stretched |
|
about killing the beast? |
|
they say there's a snake that can shed it's skin |
|
when the good old days are wearing thin, but |
|
the good old days have all withered and died |
|
some go on livin'on the sentimental side |
|
the circle is broken |
|
now there's more than just one |
|
and there's room to move |
|
where before there was none |
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for we stood in our circles |
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and looked to the inside |
|
our backs to the world |
|
unaware of the outside |
|
they say there's a snake that can shed it's skin |
|
when the good old days are wearing thin, but |
|
the good old days have all withered and died |
|
some go on livin'on the sentimental side |
