Crap That Gets in the Way of Your Dreams

When I was sixteen, I got my first guitar

I learned to play it in my mom's garage

I played it night and day and the years just flew away

And I'm still playing in that damn garage

But I never gave up

Took a rip from my bong

And the world passed me by

And I wrote another song

About the crap that gets in the way of your dreams

But that's just how it seems

You work all your life but you never succeed

And you don't get what you need

And ain't it a crime when you don't have a dime to show?

Oh-oh-oh

And now I'm sixty-five and, yeah, I'm still alive

But I ain't seen my wife in quite a while

She may be dead upstairs or maybe she just don't care

About my music or my laundry pile

Was I wasting my life? Were they right all along?

Should I bury my wife or just write another song?

About the crap that gets in the way of your dreams

Well, that's just how it seems

You work all your life but you never succeed

And you don't get what you need

And ain't it a crime when you don't have a dime to show?

Oh-oh-oh

And ain't it a crime when you don't have a dime to show?

Oh no

Crap that gets in the way of your dreams

But that's just how it seems

Crap that gets in the way of your dreams

The crap that get in the way of your dreams