Credits
AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
Fulton Lee Farrish
Stimme und Gesang
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Fulton Lee Farrish
Songwriter:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
August Pappas
Produzent:in
Fulton Lee Farrish
Produzent:in
Lyrics
I'm close enough to my youth, I can still smell the classroom
Where my kindergarten teacher gave me purple sticks of glue
I ran across the blacktop 'til I grew out of my shoes
Time back then was always on the move
Now I'm good and grown, got two children of my own
They use the couch cushions to build fortresses of stone
My daughter turned three, that means two is long gone
Time, I guess, is rolling, rolling on
And I can see the hand of father time on my old man
I am not ready for the day that I let go of his hand
Our relationship is an hourglass that's losing sand
But I am such a busy, busy man
Someone help, I'm asleep at the wheel
And every time I wake up, I've lost another year
How do I forget over and over again?
Time is running, running like the wind
I heard of a man, always thought in advance
Every day he spent crafting up tomorrow's plan
He made so much money and he shook so many hands
I don't know if his life ever began
Well, that is a road I don't want to travel, so
I tape my eyes open so I can watch my children grow
Then I go complaining how the day moves so slow
Will I ever learn? I do not know
Someone help, I'm asleep at the wheel
And every time I wake up, I've lost another year
How do I forget over and over again?
That every passing day
Is one that won't come back my way
And time is running, running like the wind
Writer(s): Fulton Farrish
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