I like the old ways
Antiques from the past
When things of quality
Were built to last
Not the trinkets
Made today
Used one time
Then thrown away
The past ages
Sought the truth
Trusting in themselves
Like we should do
They were not like moths
Throwing themselves into flames
Destroying themselves
In profit's name
An ounce of prevention
Worth more than gold
Nothing will replace
The ways of old
Waste not want not
Our ancestors knew
To not be prepared
Is to be a fool
Technology is not the answer
To the world's ills
It has many uses
But is destroying our skills
Our hands have become idle
The devil's workshop no less
Parent's replaced by computers
And we call it progress
Call me old fashioned
I prefer old school
When a man's worth
Wasn't measured in gold
