Dein Warenkorb ist gerade leer!
Your nails are dirty from the city
I catch you thinking it’s a pity
You ever had that bluebird tattoo on your shoulder
Sunlight spelling summer dresses
Across your Judes, across your Tesses
But the evenings always turn out to be colder
Chorus:
Older… Do the days that come now fly by?
Older… Does the blood that boiled now run dry?
Older… Still too much to be done to sit and just wonder why
There’s a box you keep the past in
You keep it locked, you keep it lasting
Your mother’s photograph, the things you never told her
A child demanding your attention
A quarrel needs your intervention
The words you use surprise you when you scold her
Chorus
When your youth burned like a coal
You said you wanted to make it white-hot
But in the hard sell of your soul you got stamped out
When your youth burned like a coal
You said you wanted to make it white-hot
But in the hard sell of your soul you got stamped out
Like an ingot
Chorus
„Older“ handelt von meinem Altern und vom Älterwerden im allgemeinen. Wenn man beginnt Songs zu schreiben, von denen man erwartet das sie die Welt verändern, wird man natürlich von einer Menge jugendlichem Adrenalin getrieben… Es war eine sehr, sehr harte Lektion, die auf folgendes hinauslief: „Wenn Du Dich total hingeben willst, weißt Du verdammt noch mal besser vorher, in was Du da gerätst“. Älter werden ist höllisch… Mike Jones