The rain has gotten colder lately. People react by becoming islands. Around here that means they are islands within islands. It's disorienting when umbrellas replace faces. Even underground, familiar stations become alien and the heart longs for something old a familiar. This is a song about appreciating things that last as bulwarks against a world that is ever fleeting, ever in a state of destruction and recombination. It is about old friendships, and old buildings, and ancient neighbors that never seem to vanish, that give us a sense of longevity toward which we might aspire. I haven't gotten old yet, but as I look around the buzzing scene, I see young faces peeking out, eager and alive. It's time to consider how one prepares for the next step. What does it take to age without fading? What does it take to crack without breaking? These and other questions are asked but not answered.
lyrics
All the ant people
Live in separate cities
Every time they see the rain
And in my old tunnel
I just don't know where I am
Even though it looks the same
And hear the air raid siren
Blowing in the wind
Singing what?
I couldn't say
And feel the old castle wall
Shake beneath the cannon ball
Shatter slowly in the rain
And you don't have to get up
We ain't like the young folks
They're squeezing out every drop
But watch the age that we're in
'Cause we ain't like the old folks
We're still breaking in our skin
And all my old friends
Are my newest friends
But I don't wonder what it means
If the moment's catching
If the chill will stick around
You'll find my face against the breeze
And hear the old folks
Laughing their hearts the floor below
What will it take to be like that?
To be the last castle wall
Why it remains while others fall
We will remain
We'll be the last
And you don't have to get up
We ain't like the young folks
They're squeezing out every drop
But watch the age that we're in
'Cause we ain't like the old folks
We're still breaking in our skin