The folks of old lied to us.

I wrote a song and composed a melody based on the lore passed down through generations—in poems, tales, and proverbs—of things that were *supposed* to happen, yet never did.

Justice never reached the rightful owner.

Mountains never met, and neither did people.

The crooked load actually reached its destination.

The innocent ended up on the gallows.

That "good day"—the one "Mr. Nobody" promised—never arrived.

Our moon remained forever hidden behind the clouds.

For us, it was all loss and no gain—and there was no "sooner or later" about it.

قدیمیا دروغ میگفتن بهمون

ترانه ای نوشتم و ملودی‌ای ساختم بر اساس آنچه که از گذشته در اشعار و قصه ها و ضرب المثل ها سینه به سینه منتقل شد و باید اتفاق میفتاد اما ما که ندیدیمحق به حقدار نرسیدکوه به کوه نرسید و آدم هم به آدم نرسیدبار کج به منزل رسیدسر بیگناه بالای دار رفتیه روز خوبی هم که آقای هیچکس میگفت میاد نیومدماه ما هم همیشه پشت ابر موندو برای ما سوخت و سوز داشت اما دیر یا زود نداشت.