Photograph - Ellis Paul

You hide it in your pocket, a paper thin time machine

With the edges torn by the tacks on the wall where it once was seen

In your leather weathered wallet the picture has faded green

But it holds your heart tied in a knot by some tethered dream

You can call it your poor misfortune

Call it anything at all

It’s still your unlearned lesson

And you’ll be lucky to learn at all

She smiles a wise smile, I guess she’s played it’s tricks for you

Cracking it for a while to keep your spinning head from you

And wise eyes smiling their deeper brown eyed hue

They let nothing out, you begin to doubt their point of view

(Repeat Chorus)

Just some colors on a piece of Kodachrome

And the lover throwin' the same old stones

Yea, they hit you now like they hit you then, hey, that’s something

That a ticking clock is a crock of nothing;

changes nothing

You hide it in your pocket.