This is the way I see it:

You're only here for a shot time

The will of windshields will win your way

Despite disconnections and digits and dimes

Not much going on?

Well, so be it

Just pull songs from last years favorite bars

Do they get played on Avenue A

Or with adolescent tears that stain parent's new cars?

Profane fames and phantom paints

Disappear with rains down city drains

But like Indian summers that hold on to their suns

Only the best days remain

One month short of a brand new spring

Just close your eyes and let gravity do it's thing

"Those were the days," you teased

But none will stand up to these