Here at the gates, on the day you were born,
Spooling is breathened and blossomed in thought.
Mind in the head of this child of mine,
Now we're up dancing with old father time,
Raising our glasses to old father time.

Here in the Concords, there's fire in the brave.
They're not (Ain't no) protecting from me my day.
If I were strong, if the lashes should shape,
Now we're up dancing with old father time, passing the bottle around.

Poundin' the mother and pourin' in lime,
Plant stuck in the ground.
Now we're up dancing with old father time, old father time.

Behold the great city that went down the plague (a glint on the plain?).
Behold the great curtains that murmur in rage.
Blink your eyes once and it's grace land again.
Now we're up dancing with old father time, passing the bottle around.

Poundin' the mother and pourin' in lime,
The plant is stuck in the ground, now we're up dancing with old father time,
Old father time,
Old father time,
Old father time.

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): DAVID GRAY