behind the couch in the room in the basement,   there lies an electric guitar   wound the same way from five hundred years ago   rust fills the battle scars   long to scream to a silent crowd   so soft and abrasive, embarrassed and loud   holding the truth no one else was allowed   ignoring the day to day.   a car in the driveway staining the gravel   beneath it the blackest of black   was a soldering gun, was a miracle tonic   but now it can never grow back   all the parts that you lost through indifference and pride.   tell me who has been taking who for a ride   setting the course for the rest of your life   from freedom to the day to day.   but when you're too young to pine for the good old times   and too old to run away at the first sign of change,   throw up your hands because everything fades   except for the day to day.   beneath the archway that holds up the ceiling   there stands the love of my life   they say compassion turns to pity and passion into comfort   but she's got better things to do with her time   and honest to god, i don't know what i'd do   if something were ever to happen to you   so let this build the bridge connecting the two   the future to yesterday   and we'll watch summer grow into january lows   as the calendar falls down from the wall   we'll open our hands and try to embrace   even the day to day.