Imagine a whisky bottle fashioned on Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup bottle. I’ve been an old soul for as long as I can remember – I knew this even when I was a kid. I remember loving the old houses in Newton, old parts of New York City and old radio show reruns, like The Shadow. I’ve always loved old street cars and rail yards, stations and tracks. My friend found an old abandoned telegraph shack that still had piles of telegrams in it. Way out near Lake Paulinskill and it was so cool.
An old telegraph
An old radio
History gives comfort
To vintage souls
I've climbed branches
Of my family tree
Looked around
At those related to me
Like an aged whisky
We get better with time
Our days on earth
Are blessed, sublime
When you look to the future
It's based on our past
Make your days count
Cuz time goes so fast
Chorus
Olde Soul Whisky
Goes down smooth
While we are earthbound
Contentful and soothing