longing for the schoolyard reaching for the scenes reminded by the songs that will never disappear random like the infants outdated like the old lying there in aimlessness listening to the cure doing some rehearsal exercising in the cold lowering the standarts for the six-string never rolled whistling at the girls and saving for the fuel making plans and knock knock knock on wood play some rock play some rock please don`t stop coming home coming home sentenced by our faults we were to make in time pleasently aware of our solitude in mind saved me from the boredom of what we disavowed encouraged by the sound that was the sweetest one of all admiring your senses infected by your tongue defenceless I believed that weпd face anything to come you innocently told me youпd catch me when I fall and solemnly weпd knock knock knock on wood play some rock play some rock please don`t stop coming home coming home I`m not the only one ...
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