out on the road little boys let their beards grow oh so busy talking about the things that we don`t know all done worrying about the things we used to be (i`m to busy finding out what i`m gonna be)
and finding weapons of mass destruction to combat this boredom that claws at my eyes, my ears
no longer can i worry about whether these words have touched your or failed you... fuck, you`re too busy bitching about clothes that do not fit
"so play the violins"
i`ll keep getting in the van worry about money for the rest of my life just so that you can have this to talk about our time is to spend time with you and if you don`t want it well that`s fine too
walk right out that door this room was growing cold with you this room that is my home
and i cannot and i must not and i will not let clean shaven boys that all look the same toss hand grenades into this my faith
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