Song for the Old Men

This is a song for the old men
This is a song for the end-of-the-liners

And this is a song for the one-track-minders
The useless and broken, the end-of-timers

This is a song for the liars
For the parking lot thieves and the drunks and the cowards

And this is a song for the sirens
For the traffic light queuers, and the cross-weary doubters

And this is a song for the lonely
For the loveless, the joyless, the permanently phony
This is a song for the workers
For the mothers and fathers and job-hungry lurkers

This is a song for the generals
For the Citizen Kanes and the pilots of planes

And this is a song for the bankers
The revolutionary freaks, the never-understanders
For the lovers and haters, the angry and jaded
The philosopher-kings and the red-light-ladies

For the prisoners and guards
In their unhappy bars
The presidents and priests
In the belly of the beast

The philanderers, meanderers, the pushers and handlers
The drug-smoking hippies, and the cycling geeks

And the ones left behind and the ones remembered least
For the hungry, the hollowed, the beg stealed and borrowed

This is a song for the old times
This is a song for the new times

And now I lay down my dream of the world
I lay down a dream, a dream that's so old

I dream that the darkness was gone
But the shadows fall from the light, that is all

And the shadows fall from the light, that is all