When I was 16, I got my first guitar
I learned to play it in my mom's garage
I played it night and day
And the years just flew away
And I'm still playing in that damn garage

But I never gave up
Took a rip from my bong
And the world passed me by
And I wrote another song

About the crap that gets in the way of your dreams
Well, that's just how it seems
You work all your life but you never succeed
And you don't get what you need
And ain't it a crime when you don't have a dime to show, oh, oh, oh

And now I'm 65 and yeah I'm still alive
But I ain't seen my wife in quite a while
She may be dead upstairs, or maybe she just don't care
About my music or my laundry pile

Was I wasting my life? Were they right all along?
Should I bury my wife or just write another song?

About the crap that gets in the way of your dreams
Well, that's just how it seems
You work all your life but you never succeed
And you don't get what you need
And ain't it a crime when you don't have a dime to show, oh, oh, oh

And ain't it a crime when you don't have a dime to show, oh, no
Crap that gets in the way of your dreams
Well, that's just how it seems
Crap that gets in the way of your dreams
The crap that get in the way of your dreams