(are. J. Johnson/Guiney/Reedy)
Feel the glow from the lampshade, it's the shadow that shows his age
He's an old man with a weathered soul, who burned to live before he got
Far too old
He tells stories to fill the space
Once he said, "it's so cold in early November… And all the sky and trees
Are a rust colored
Grey
I know her eyes still smile when I bring her flowers… I took them
Yesterday"
We put her down not long ago… Close enough to keep something to hold,
And far away from what she knew then…
On further out he stands alone, by the only thing he seems
To call his own
His eyes fill up again
He's an old man with a weathered soul who burned to live before he got far
Too old
He tells stories to fill the space
Once he said, "it's so cold in early November… And all the sky and trees
Are a rust colored
Grey
I know her eyes still smile when I bring her flowers… I took them
Yesterday"
.. Gets farther on his own.. It's the only thing he still has to hold…
He's got stories to fill the
Space
Now he says… "it's still cold in earl November.. She keeps the sky
And trees their rust colored Grey
I know her eyes still smile when I bring her flowers, I took them yesterday. "