© 2012 Oliver John-Rodgers (OJR) 


We got old early—too early, I think

Some stayed dirty—no one stayed clean

My jeans got tight—pretty girls got loose

The laces of their shoes tied my neck a nice noose

The night ends soon, though I wish it could stay

It’s clearer we’re doomed in the light of the day

The world’s end is ahead, so I hide in my home

In debt and in bed till the banks judge my soul


I want back the past—stability, at best

I want a heart attack to know a heart’s inside my chest

To bring a girl home, but not undress

To talk about books and traveling west

I studied how to sing in a million-dollar class

But flunked in the spring—I forgot how to pass

I’m too scared to try though I dream all big

I’m running out of time—haven’t played a damn gig


And I’m not sure if I mean it when I say

I’m sorry for my ways

The ones I seem to always mix with whiskey

Till you wish it were not you who has to kiss me

‘Cause I don’t know what it is that I should do

So you tell your friends I’m bad at loving you

But the truth is there’s no one I can trust

Too old to trust there’s shine under the rust

My head it hurts, my lungs they feel all choked

Got last year’s fingers laced around my throat

Some girls, they come, but never stay for good

They hate the engine I hide beneath my hood

Some girls, they come, but never stay for long

I say, “Go on and leave, but you’re always in my song!”

My grandpa calls to see if I’ve found fame

I say, “Granddad, I’m a hobo in a rich man's game”

My grandpa calls just to say good night

I say, “Good night, Granddad. I’m happy to be alive"