Written by Joe Deegan

Produced by Joshua Moore

Joe Deegan - acoustic guitar, vocals

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Little fingers in my hand walking through the grass

She can’t even understand what I would do to make this last

She stoops to pick up dandelions and hoist them in the air

With a gust of wind they fly and leave the flimsy stem laid bare

 

The moment fades and slips away

To the land of memory

Time is a friend we welcomed in

Who turned out to be a thief

 

She grabs a book and plops down in the middle of the room

I would read with her but I’ve got other things to do

Every night she falls asleep curled up in my lap

I forget to recognize that I won’t get this night back

 

(Chorus)

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Time is a drug we can’t get enough of

The more that we take the more it takes what we love

I am yearning for a day that never ends

When all our wasted time is given back again

 

One day we will journey

From the land of memory

And walk the fields of glory

Where our time will be redeemed