Besedila: Drive By Truckers. Brighter Than Creation's Dark. Perfect Timing.

Here I am again, perfect timing
The strings are ringing and the words are rhyming
I used to hate the fool in me but only in the morning
Now I tolerate him all day long

Out on the highway
I hear the moaning
that low and lonesome whistle you only know from longing
and through those naked trees got the windows blowing orange
taking over that cold shoulder racing by

I might have known before

If I've got this old before
I thought I got too cool to give a damn
Do you see in dreams at night scenes to spend the afterlife
trying to live the last one down

Here I am again, perfect timing
The strings are ringing and the words are rhyming
I used to hate the fool in me but only in the morning
now I tolerate him all day long