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 whisper, you only know from longing, through those naked trees at the windows glowing orange, taking over that cold shoulder racing by I might have known before if I'd got this old before I thought I got too cool to give a damn That who you see in dreams at night seem to spend their afterlives trying hard 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 |
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