in a creaky old chair, under upstairs nwhere you're watching the night slip awaynthere's a flickering candle nwhere i light my smokesnin the room with all of my booksnand my guitar is sleepingnand the stereo's playing old songsnthat i like to singnand i stay up later than late in the eveningnuntil the sun struggles nup and i finish thinkingnuntil the dishes are dirtynand the ashtrays need cleaningnnnow i know better nthan i know betternand i'm no better than mostnbut in this shaky old worldnthat's falling apartni'll never break your heartnlet me blow out this candlenand crawl up beside younthere's a good deal to dreamnand laundry to donand i'm so far behind that i haven't got a cluenand i'll never finish this living with you