It's coming round again
|
The slowly creeping hand
|
Of time and its command
|
Soon enough it comes
|
and settles in its place
|
Its shadow in my face
|
Puts pressure in my day
|
|
This life well it's slipping right through my hands
|
These days turned out nothing like I had planned
|
|
It's coming round again
|
The slowly creeping hand
|
Of time and its demands
|
It settles in its place
|
Its shadow in my face
|
Undignified and lame
|
|
This life well it's slipping right through my hands
|
These days turned out nothing like I had planned
|
Control well it's slipping right through my hands
|
These days turned out nothing like I had planned
|
|
Soon enough it comes
|
Soon enough it comes
|
To tie us down
|
|
-----------------
|
These Days
|
| Powderfinger |
