Gouge

I think this is more accurate:

Gouge

Time always slips away Curls up its edge And colors fade Caustic varnish Weathered doors Saturday morning Makes me feel so small

I'm not waiting for a change I'm not waiting for a change

Can't be a passing thing There's a feeling that always stays Warm memories clutched too tight Family days and massive fights

I'm not waiting for a change I'm not waiting for a change I'm not waiting for a change I'm not waiting for a change

Time slips away Time slips away Time slips away Time slips away Time slips away Time slips away

As for what I think it's about the narrator looking back on his childhood. The images of decay, and the aging of inanimate objects is symbolic of the effects of time on people. All always picture it as hte narrator walking around the now-abandoned farmhouse that he grew up in. Familiar colors all faded, everything changed and damaged with time, as he is. He is feeling old, and mortal, thinking about death, and missing his childhood.

That childhood is shown in almost the musical equivalent of a hyper-realist painting. First, in the standard, detail-obsessed, warts-and-all, but neutral stance of hyper-realism. The brief mention of the actual family is the inversion of that, the same neutrality in the ambiguous descriptions of the emotions rather than the details. The result is the questioning if the narrator's childhood was particularly sad or difficult, of was it just normal, and unremarkable?

A man depressed over his own mortality attempts to go back to his childhood, but finds that childhood lacking.