Perfect Timing

Here I am again, perfect timing

The strings are ringing and the words are rhyming

I used to hate the fool in me, but only in the morning

Now I tolerate him all day long

Out on the highway, I hear the moaning

That low and lonesome whistle you only know from longing

And through those naked trees got the windows blowing orange

Taking over that cold shoulder racing by

I might have known before if I've got this old before

I thought I got too cool to give a damn

Do you see in dreams at night scenes to spend the afterlife

Just trying hard to live the last one down

Here I am again, perfect timing

The strings are ringing and the words are rhyming

I used to hate the fool in me, but only in the morning

Now I tolerate him all day long