in three keys and three time signatures. From the upcoming "Hybrid".
a man 500 years old laments that everyone around him ages and dies. he also has a tardiness problem.
Watches, Shmwatches, I can’t find one that keeps time,
Late for birthdays, so many I can’t define.
In Slo Mo, time flies, in decades per day,
In Slo Mo, I’m forever thirty nine, but never on time for a date.
Their hair greys, their joints freeze, lovers who start to decay.
Then come all the questions, why I never seem to age.
In Slo Mo, 500 years frame by frame,
In Slo Mo, how many people, biographies, cities and names?
Ghosts of lives past, always alive in my ear.
Passports, IDs, and once again I disappear.
In Slo Mo, sunrise at ten thousand feet,
In Slo Mo, watching you age as I’m falling asleep in my seat.