Performed by Eliot. Music and Lyrics by Eliot. Produced by Sean Fodor. Recorded at ME Studios, Los Angeles. Copyright 2009 Eliot. All rights reserved.
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Lyrics
You who always called yourself an artist never has time for art much anymore. Taking relics from the boxes in your basement, putting them back up on the wall in the hall. The snow falls and it makes you feel inspired but it's so cold outside that the very thought of venturing is tired, so you curl up once again and wish you knew who you were then. Why did you do it? Why did you dream of being better than this? Why is it so much easier to give yourself away? Hey, where's that old picture of me? I was really headed for something great. Do you think it's too late? Maybe it's not too late. So you turn up the volume on the television, drowning out the past and all it's crazy ambition. There may be brighter days ahead of me. I still can see way beyond the road I see. That's me.
