Photograph

You hide it in your pocket, a paper thin time machine,
 With the edges torn by the tacks on the wall where it once was seen.
 In your leather weathered wallet the picture has faded green,
 But it holds your heart tied in a knot by some tethered dream.
 (Chorus)
 You can call it your poor misfortune
 Call it anything at all
 It's still your unlearned lesson
 And you'll be lucky to learn at all
 She smiles a wise smile, I guess she's played it's tricks for you,
 Cracking it for a while to keep your spinning head from you.
 And wise eyes smiling their deeper brown eyed hue,
 They let nothing out, you begin to doubt their point of view.
 (Repeat Chorus)
 Just some colors on a piece of Kodachrome,
 And the lover throwin' the same old stones.
 Yea, they hit you now like they hit you then, hey, that's something.
 That a ticking clock is a crock of nothing; changes nothing.
 You hide it in your pocket.