Old Time (The Wayside)

Old town, old time old days Falling to the wayside Old home, old house, old face Falling to the wayside And it'll never get better than what I had waiting for me underneath the Tin Roof. Bold plans, old plants, cold hands Falling to the wayside Broke back, yoke snapped, coal stacks Falling to the wayside And it'll never be better than anything I had underneath the Tin Roof No pills, cold meals, Hold Still. We've fallen to the wayside Old stones, new bones, cold homes We've fallen to the wayside And I don't ever wanna see another smoke stack billow black coal packing lungs back.