I know I’m getting older cuz  

caffeine makes my head hurt. 

Cuz I don’t take the long way home, 

I wear contacts every morning 

and I love the bathroom backsplash stone. 

There’s a satellite map now in my head, 

I can drive straight ahead for hours on end.

The city rearranges at every stoplight, but

I only adventure in daylight, 

something about the starlight’s 

more intimidating than stage lights. 

I knew I was getting older when 

I started paying for gas with cash. 

When my knees crack, a cymbal crash, 

when being on stage isn’t scary, 

and I could talk about the 

loved, lost, and lonesome

without speaking of myself. 

I’m growing faster than the town, now,

ignoring the frowns of the founding fathers and 

I keep building, just build buildings.

I’ll keep building until there’s something to stand on, 

something to stand for.