| Song | Old Man Time Ain't No Friend of Mine |
| Artist | Jason Webley |
| Album | Viaje |
| 作曲 : Webley | |
| Wake up in a room where steel guitars turn to steel bars | |
| You know I've lived here too long | |
| Try to write these songs about being bored | |
| Why am I so surprised when they all prove boring songs? | |
| The second hand holds still while the hour hand slips by | |
| I don't know just how long I've been here | |
| I stare out the window and contemplate the sky | |
| While I grow older than my years | |
| Plucking strings by the side of my bed | |
| By a stack of books, most of which I've never read | |
| I want to capture in sound the way things are | |
| But I'd regret it in the morning if I smashed my guitar | |
| The second hand holds still while the hour hand slips by | |
| I don't know just how long I've been here | |
| I stare out the window and contemplate the sky | |
| While I grow older than my years | |
| Well, they're never gonna tell us | |
| Just what's coming around the bend | |
| But there's one thing I can count on | |
| That's that old man time is not my fucking friend | |
| For the reaper lurks in stillness | |
| But motion too is death | |
| So I just float between them | |
| Moving in and out to the rhythm of my breath | |
| The second hand holds still while the hour hand slips by | |
| I don't know just how long I've been here | |
| I stare out the window and contemplate the sky | |
| While I grow older than my years | |
| The second hand holds still while the hour hand slips by | |
| I don't know just how long I've been here | |
| So I stare out the window and contemplate the sky | |
| While I grow older than my years |
| zuò qǔ : Webley | |
| Wake up in a room where steel guitars turn to steel bars | |
| You know I' ve lived here too long | |
| Try to write these songs about being bored | |
| Why am I so surprised when they all prove boring songs? | |
| The second hand holds still while the hour hand slips by | |
| I don' t know just how long I' ve been here | |
| I stare out the window and contemplate the sky | |
| While I grow older than my years | |
| Plucking strings by the side of my bed | |
| By a stack of books, most of which I' ve never read | |
| I want to capture in sound the way things are | |
| But I' d regret it in the morning if I smashed my guitar | |
| The second hand holds still while the hour hand slips by | |
| I don' t know just how long I' ve been here | |
| I stare out the window and contemplate the sky | |
| While I grow older than my years | |
| Well, they' re never gonna tell us | |
| Just what' s coming around the bend | |
| But there' s one thing I can count on | |
| That' s that old man time is not my fucking friend | |
| For the reaper lurks in stillness | |
| But motion too is death | |
| So I just float between them | |
| Moving in and out to the rhythm of my breath | |
| The second hand holds still while the hour hand slips by | |
| I don' t know just how long I' ve been here | |
| I stare out the window and contemplate the sky | |
| While I grow older than my years | |
| The second hand holds still while the hour hand slips by | |
| I don' t know just how long I' ve been here | |
| So I stare out the window and contemplate the sky | |
| While I grow older than my years |