When I was 16, I got my first guitar I learned to play it in my mom's garage I played it night and day And the years just flew away And I'm still playing in that damn garage But I never gave up Took a rip from my bong And the world passed me by And I wrote another song About the crap that gets in the way of your dreams Well, that's just how it seems You work all your life but you never succeed And you don't get what you need And ain't it a crime when you don't have a dime to show, oh, oh, oh And now I'm 65 and yeah I'm still alive But I ain't seen my wife in quite a while She may be dead upstairs, or maybe she just don't care About my music or my laundry pile Was I wasting my life? Were they right all along? Should I bury my wife or just write another song? About the crap that gets in the way of your dreams Well, that's just how it seems You work all your life but you never succeed And you don't get what you need And ain't it a crime when you don't have a dime to show, oh, oh, oh And ain't it a crime when you don't have a dime to show, oh, no Crap that gets in the way of your dreams Well, that's just how it seems Crap that gets in the way of your dreams The crap that get in the way of your dreams