Step
Back, back, way backI used to front like Angkor Wat, Mechanicsburg, Anchorage and Dar es SalaamWhile home in New York was champagne and discoTapes from LA/San FranciscoBut actually Oakland and not AlamedaYour girl was in Berkeley with her communist readerMine was entombed within boombox and WalkmanI was a hoarder but girl, that was back then
The gloves are off, the wisdom teeth are outWhat you on about?I feel it in my bones, I feel it in my bones
I’m stronger now, I’m ready for the houseSuch a modest mouseI can’t do it alone, I can’t do it alone
Ancestors told me that their girl was betterShe’s richer than Croesus, she’s tougher than leatherI just ignored all the tales of a past lifeStale conversation deserves but a bread knifeAnd punks who would laugh when they saw us togetherWell they didn’t know how to dress for the weatherI can still see them there huddled on AstorSnow falling slow to the sound of the Master
CHORUS
Wisdom’s a gift but you’d trade it for youthAge is an honor – it’s still not the truthWe saw the stars when they hid from the worldYou cursed the sun when it stepped to your girlMaybe she’s gone and I can’t resurrect herThe truth is she doesn’t need me to protect herWe know the true death – the true way of all fleshEveryone’s dying but girl – you’re not old yet
CHORUS