Play on words like a jungle gym.
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Juggle until there's nothing left of them.
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Shriveled and shrinking, foolishly believing
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that we would be the first grapes to become a fine wine.
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[Chorus:]</i>
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How do we keep fresh and still measure out success?
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Will our best be good enough to keep doing what we love?
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Until the state of stagnation takes the taste of inspiration.
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The place in which all creation subsides.
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Now it's up to us to decide
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Should the friends make the music, or the music make the friends?
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Does the man make the money or the money make the man?
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If we can't get along should we bother writing songs?
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If we can't make a dime is it even worth our time?
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-----------------
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Money Make The Man
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| Small Towns Burn A Little Slower |
