Perfect Timing

Here I am again perfect timing,
the strings are ringing and the words are rhyming
I used to hate the fool in me, but only in the morning
now I tolerate him all day long

Out on the highway, I hear the moaning
That low and lonesome whisper,
you only know from longing,
through those naked trees at the windows glowing orange,
taking over that cold shoulder racing by

I might have known before
if I'd got this old before I thought I got too cool to give a damn
That who you see in dreams at night seem to spend their afterlives
trying hard to live the last one down

Here I am again perfect timing,
the strings are ringing and the words are rhyming
I used to hate the fool in me, but only in the morning,
now I tolerate him all day long