Smell the scents of guitar picks
And drum sticks
Broken wood and cinders flick
And time ticks
You're getting old
Open your black book
And what do you see
Scribbled notes about breathing air
And beat decrees
You're getting old
Sermons about feeling this
And singing that
Like kissing pencils
Behind a pad on train tracks
You're getting old
I know why you let go
But what happens when you don't
Catastrophes tend to be like a world in a snow globe
All encompassing and nowhere to go
You're getting old
credits
from Off The Ground,
released November 15, 2011
Music & Lyrics by Tom Breed
Drums by BigShane
Drums recorded by John Burrey
A hushed and low-lit EP from this Melbourne musician, where dreamlike melodies drift across a bed of tender guitar. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 19, 2023