Paid for by patrons
Better Days
Whoa, I'm on a roll! Here's the next 'un, y'all. It's called Better Days. It's the kind of nostalgic backward glance of the sort that I, believing that my best days lie ahead of me, am not usually wont to do . . . but the lyric is sentimental and universal, so it oughta speak to somebody, right? Right. Here 'tis: BETTER DAYS I was raised in the south born with a white plastic spoon in my mouth eatin' homemade ice cream in the shade always dreaming I'd find better days I grew up like the coyote does runnin’ with a pack just as wild as I was and I howled as the full moon blazed just hurtin’ for my better days Better days like I ain't seen when I turn eighteen gonna blow this taco stand town and find my scene yeah you can lead the kid to the river but you can't make him swim cause there were no "better days" like the days we had back then went north while still in my youth looking for love, all I found was the cold, cold truth when I got back home I was dismayed still thinkin' I could find better days Better days gon’ come when I turn twenty-one gonna burn outta this one horse town and run, run, run well you can lead a kid to the river but you can’t make him swim ‘cause there were no “better days” like the days we had back then City lights disappear they don't compare to what we have right here the virgin heart has to fly before it knows the better days gone by
Tier Benefits
Recent Posts