There's a ghost in my easy chair, he's looking at me
A cold apparition of something that I used to be
And the nerve of these photographs to sit there and stare
Like I need reminding of what isn't where anymore
Time is casual thief, picks your pockets while you watch TV
And the evening news is
Nothing's dying in these living rooms but you
I know all your secrets girl, the ones you confess
When that muscadine wine has a hold of the knot in your chest
I still remember the night that you cried, we put on an old song
And danced till the carpet ignited
Time is a tragic thing, a Cohen record skipping to the beat
Of a worn out groove
Nothing's dying in these living rooms but you
We both know the way it is, everyone sings everyone pretends
That the song won't end
Time is a murdering fiend
Kills you one breath at a time like nicotine
But you don't get to choose
Nothings dying in these living rooms but you