Cold-Blooded Old Times - Bill Callahan

Cold-blooded old times

Cold-blooded old times

Cold-blooded old times

The type of memories

That turn your bones to glass

Turn your bones to glass

Mother came rushing in

She said we didn’t see a thing

We said we didn’t see a thing

And father left at eight

Nearly splintering the gate

Cold-blooded old times

Cold-blooded old times

Cold-blooded old times

Cold-blooded old times

The type of memories

That turn your bones

Turn your bones to glass

And though you were

Just a little squirrel

You understood every word

And in this way

They gave you clarity

A cold-blooded clarity

Cold-blooded old times

Cold-blooded old times

Cold-blooded old times

Though how can I stand

And laugh with the man

Who redefined your body?

How can I stand

And laugh with the man

Who redefined your body?

Those cold-blooded old times

Cold-blooded old times

Cold-blooded old times