Wash away
|
all the lines on your face that show how you've aged
|
it's a long way down
|
your back's been broken you can't make the rounds
|
the tables are turned as the litany goes
|
you're a rotten old man who'll be covered in dirt
|
on your knees
|
and pray to the maker that caused you to bleed;
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
Turn back the hand on the clock
|
you're a bitter old man who's done nothing but work
|
your hands to the bone on the assembly lines
|
you've grown cold to the touch of the ones that you love
|
ignorance is something you can't over come but you've passed it on down
|
and that's something much worse
|
for a bitter young man
|
is now taking the torch
|
a bitter young man
|
is now taking the torch;
|
|
Silent scorn
|
you've taken it out on the ones you adore
|
Inside rage
|
they've left you before but they'll come back again
|
they'll pray for you with all their love
|
but this time your indifference just can't be excused
|
Forced amends
|
well it's something you'll die with but it goes on for them;
|
|
[Chorus]
|
Turn back the hand on the clock
|
you're a bitter old man who's done nothing but work
|
your hands to the bone on the assembly lines
|
you've grown cold to the touch of the ones that you love
|
ignorance is something you can't over come but you've passed it on down
|
and that's something much worse
|
for a bitter young man
|
is now taking the torch
|
a bitter young man
|
is now taking the torch.
|
|
-----------------
|
The Torch
|
| Dropkick Murphys |
