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Time Fades Away Lyrics
fourteen junkies
too weak to work
one sells diamonds
for what they're worth
down on pain street,
disappointment lurks
son, don't be home too late.
try to get back by eight
son, don't wait
till the break of day
'cause you know
how time fades away.
time fades away
you know how time fades away.
all day presidents
look out windows
all night sentries
watch the moonglow
all are waiting till
the time is right
son, don't be home too late
try to get back by eight
son, don't wait
till the break of day
'cause you know
how time fades away.
time fades away
you know how time fades away.
back in canada i spent my days
riding subways through a haze
i was handcuffed,
i was born & raised
son, don't be home too late
try to get back by eight
son, don't wait
till the break of day
'cause you know
how time fades away.
time fades away
you know how time fades away.
thirteen junkies
too weak to work
one sells diamonds
for what they're worth
down on pain street
disappointment lurks.
son, don't be home too late
try to get back by eight, eight
son, don't wait
till the break of day
'cause you know
how time fades away.
time fades away
you know how time fades away.
time fades away
you know how time fades away
too weak to work
one sells diamonds
for what they're worth
down on pain street,
disappointment lurks
son, don't be home too late.
try to get back by eight
son, don't wait
till the break of day
'cause you know
how time fades away.
time fades away
you know how time fades away.
look out windows
all night sentries
watch the moonglow
all are waiting till
the time is right
son, don't be home too late
try to get back by eight
son, don't wait
till the break of day
'cause you know
how time fades away.
time fades away
you know how time fades away.
riding subways through a haze
i was handcuffed,
i was born & raised
son, don't be home too late
try to get back by eight
son, don't wait
till the break of day
'cause you know
how time fades away.
time fades away
you know how time fades away.
too weak to work
one sells diamonds
for what they're worth
down on pain street
disappointment lurks.
son, don't be home too late
try to get back by eight, eight
son, don't wait
till the break of day
'cause you know
how time fades away.
time fades away
you know how time fades away.
you know how time fades away
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This is SUCH a great song, from a really great album that you only find bootleg nowadays...
The lyrics to this song are pretty self explanatory i think. I can really relate. I think its about not getting anywhere in life, feeling like you're stuck. Taking each day for granted, being miserable. But by the time you realize it, it's far too late.
I think the lyrics to this go hand in hand with "Last Dance".
I agree with the previous comment-- - the meaning may not be artfully obscurantistic, but life's glorious guts spill out in a scarlet stream running dry from last night, when tonight was the night. The sanded-raw performances are the stars of the album: loose-limbed percussion and piano, vocals slack-jawed with awe and dismay, guitars rumbling by like a disoriented cattle drive to the abbatoir. These are the songs of those who can suddenly see the light but still can't see the stars-- and maybe that's enough, they dimly realize. The album cover is easily one of my all-time favorites: the sepia-toned concert crowd awaiting their pearls to be tossed down from the stage frames the lone lovely red rose that, having been just tossed upon the proscenium, lies limp near the edge, on the border of it's life and it's death, waiting for . . . what? When I tell people this is my third all-time favorite NY album (after Everbody Knows and Rust Never Sleeps), their expressions fall into one of two camps: one of blank confusion from marginal NY fans who are unaware of its existence, or one of baffled confusion from the keepers of the flame brigade. But, I insist it's true-- much like the Velvet Underground's album Loaded, it is front-to-back jammed with an array of timeless tunes performed perfectly sloppy, each wearing the halo of sacred truth. And, for this refusal of any pandering, this transgressive act of stark beauty, both albums have been consigned by popular history to weigh upon the shrugged shoulders of both Atlas and Hercules, as well as any short-fingered Vulgarians trying to rattle open the fifty gates of wisdom. A++