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Description
Revolver spins on the turntable, throwing scratchy memories of
psychedelic days and electric nights; a Pink Floyd and Zeppelin
sandwich on a trip to younger, dumber days (always summer)
I walk through, my legs as skinny now as they were then

The times they are a changing, constant flux, one dark star to another
Places I’ve been and people I’ve met float by, waving happily
I give all this to you, my first-born, knowing that you’ll never really
understand, or even know how to make the black discs speak

We don’t speak the same language anymore, you and I, but we love
I see you in the distance with your family, my grandchildren
I’d like to see you closer, but I live in the airwaves now of an old radio
station, playing oldies all night and watching stars blink out

Description
Revolver spins on the turntable, throwing scratchy memories of
psychedelic days and electric nights; a Pink Floyd and Zeppelin
sandwich on a trip to younger, dumber days (always summer)
I walk through, my legs as skinny now as they were then

The times they are a changing, constant flux, one dark star to another
Places I’ve been and people I’ve met float by, waving happily
I give all this to you, my first-born, knowing that you’ll never really
understand, or even know how to make the black discs speak

We don’t speak the same language anymore, you and I, but we love
I see you in the distance with your family, my grandchildren
I’d like to see you closer, but I live in the airwaves now of an old radio
station, playing oldies all night and watching stars blink out