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YC Sep 2015

Cross an ocean. Gaze at the stars. Plot yours on the map of time. There’s no denying our insignificance. Which is all the more reason to create significance. These are your months, days and hours, so fill ‘em wisely—with work that’s meaningful, with whisky that’s made well. No one needs a 40-year-old dad-of-three reminding them that time flies. So, take it from the 25-year-old kid who penned this song, in 2000. He had all the time in the world, yet still realized the urgency.

Photo by Peter Buck

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CREDITS:

Words & music by Craig Konyu
Recorded & produced by Peter Buck & Craig Konyu
Released September 1, 2015

The vocals: Craig Konyu
The acoustic: Craig Konyu
The electric: Peter Buck
The organ: Peter Buck
The bass: Craig Konyu
The slaps: Craig Konyu
The handclaps: Craig Konyu
The shakers: Craig Konyu

LYRICS:

Hours are staring.
Into deep outer space.
Ours is knowing.
That we can’t relate.

It’s true. I love the days.
That are spent with you.
It’s true. I love the days.

Hours are stretching.
For sky sublime.
Ours is changing.
With no worry of time.

It’s true. I love the days.
That are spent with you.
It’s true. I love the days.

Hours are spent.
Avoiding outer space.
Ours is spent.
In significant place.

It’s true. I love the days.
That are spent with you.
It’s true. I love the days.

Hours are wasting.
In significant place.
Hours are wasting.
In significant place.
Insignificant place.
Insignificant place.

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