I’ve been going for a thousand years
High time I hit the skids, came to a halt, as the sunset nears
Future’s fourth coming is followed by a fifth of reality
You are too inebriated with the syrupy chalk that flows through me
Walk-in closets filled with coins and hats and a smoking jacket
I never had a problem with blood banks or all their noisy racket
Better mate than sever ties, rope off the shack, a news anchor peers
I’ve been going for a thousand years

But your hair cascades around my face
And you pull me up from that dark place
This is the story. This is the story once again.

I’ve been going for a thousand years
Costly, grossly misunderstood mistakes are hidden in barber sheers
He sits in jail he has failed his coffin nailed possessions for sale
His wife is laughing, her neck giraffe-ing, calculators graphing, in Texas
You get the chair, they cut your hair in Maine, to ease the pain
I ease it open, you sit their hopin’ that I could ever change
Create in me a sheen start that won’t grow gray like the ways of my fears
I’ve been going for a thousand years

But your hair cascades around my face
And you pull me up from that dark place
This is the story. This is the story once again.