Old Songs You Sing (Troubadour)

But you can't be the old troubadour
With your dreams swept under the floor
The old songs you sing mean nothing at all
To the hip crowd youÕre something but small
Oh, I feel it passing
The times left things longing
But don't get bent out of shape
Truthfully I could never wait

I can't get by with just a guitar
You get to the end, donÕt know who you are
Poetry is just another calculation
Notes and words just part of the equation

Oh, I feel it passing
The times left things longing
But don't get bent out of shape
Truthfully I could never wait

But you can't be the old troubadour
With your dreams swept under the floor
The old songs you sing mean nothing at all
To the hip crowd youÕre something but small


Lyrics and Music Martin Crawford
Copyright © 2005. All rights reserved.