Quick Quick Slow

You'll go back to your husband
He did the work, he won your heart
Any work I could have been doing
I never really got to start
There was a time when we
Could have tried but
That time came and went
Typewriter street poet, even she knows it
Ain’t time a bitch?

Sometimes the road lets me win
Sometimes it drowns me in bad weather
Sometimes it's worth getting sick
Just to feel yourself get better
But I can dance with you
It ain't against the rules
Even with your hand on the back of my neck
Two old fools, we ain’t much for rules
Ain't time a bitch?

Squeeze me harder, crack my back
I don't wanna be sober tonight
Ain't nothin' left in my stash
But there's some drugs sleeping in my spine
Set them free baby, just like me
A little late, I admit
Swore I heard you say as you were walking away
Ain't time a bitch?