The Old Man in the Mirror Lyrics

There's a ghost in the glass, staring back with a sigh,

Lines carved by the years, under storm cloud eyes.

Father's gaze meets mine, ancient as the dawn,

Whispers of time echo,

"What's gone is gone."

Oh, the old man in the mirror, fading into me,

What tales do those tired eyes decree?

Battles bravely fought already lost,

In the cold reflection, our paths have crossed.

He's a map of old roads, etched in silver and salt,

Carrying burdens of the past, every fault and assault.

Wrinkles trace the paths of tears never shed,

Judgments once harsh, Now cold and dead.

Oh, the old man in the mirror, what truths have you found?

In the lines of your face, where my fears are bound?

Through the storms, through the strife,

Deeply carved and cut, by the chisel of life

In his eyes, a lineage stretching to the edge of a start,

Bearing witness to each sorrow, and adding my part.

"Listen," he says, a whisper without a sound,

"Life's lessons, in these lines, are hollow and profound."

Now he speaks of wisdom, not in words but in looks,

A library of legacies in crinkled pages of old books.

In the quiet with the mirror, where truths are often met,

An old man's experience, Cast wide in the net.

Oh, the old man in the mirror, watching seasons change,

How many more winters? How strange,

That in your eyes I see my own fate intertwine,

In the reflection, both yours and mine.

I'll meet him again, in the silence of the morn,

The old man in the mirror, worn but not forlorn.

In him, I find not just my past but my hope,

In the mirror's story, in its narrowing scope.

In a narrow scope, the old man in the mirror

The old man in the mirror