Blew the dust off a wooden box And set it on the piano Nasty words came from its mouth The bite marks were to follow I should have given it away Now I never dream Wide awake for much too long My eyes glued to the table Tried to feign authority But sadly wasn't able And then it threw me to the floor I never dream They say I'm late by half a century He died in 1943 I can't just leave (He smells it when I'm gone) So I just take it in my sleep The road is going' Me: 'Ask for her another day' The spade's up your sleeve There's sweat on your brow And I will be damned If I let you back into this town December 17th, 1955 - Broken Seven hours passed on your floor Seven hours isn't that long Seven hours isn't