Last night I heard this old guy play guitar
He could push you with the music. He could take you far
But he would push you with his right hand
and he’d always hide his left
I just had one question for him, “Mister
Have you ever been convicted of theft?”

CHORUS
Cause He’d say This one’s close to dying
This one’s fine
This one’s past the turning point
He’s crossed the line
Now he was awful good at triage
that’s for sure
But he was long on diagnosis
and short on cure

A long-winded conversation in a dorm room late at night
Hearts laid open under pale unnatural light
I raised the prospect of hope eternal. I was laughed at and scorned
They rolled their eyes like dice on a table
But their number was forlorn

BRIDGE
Now, you can take your chance
Beat your fists on the boards of despair
You end up with splinters in your knuckles
thinking, “unjust, unfair”
Or you can crawl to the altar of sadness
And starve at the base
And devour your history
In the shadows of misery
And your gone, gone, gone, without a trace

CHORUS
Now you been close dying
In fact you’ve crossed the line
You done sailed right past the turning point
thinking everything’s fine
But when the gas runs out
and your sitting there stone cold
You think, “I was young when all this started
Now I’m old”
But when the doctor pushes the triage crew aside
he says, “You’re all long on diagnosis
short on cure”
And he turns to you and says
“Come on, Darlin’ we can make this
Yes, I’m sure”