Now
three chords, and tasteful profanity
dream more broken
than the guitars they used to play
now i think on different tracks
every year a new beginning
a new persona
Now
no longer a paragon of innocencea
sick mind now filled with questions
does a stranger become your friend,
just because you ask for their name?
a happy little hand grenade
smiling ready to explode
a digital boy with nothing in my pockets
but lint, holes and Change
i don’t worship imaginary friends
the most terrible things
are nothing more than ideas
that i could never believe
now all i eat are lemonworth saints
and my vision is stuck in smole
and four strings is the most my hands can support
a life of awkward mornings
isn't any life for me
cause when you think you're indestructible
is when you self-destruct
all from a catchy tunethe nation of my thoughts
have had a revolution
and i don't know where time is headed,
but i'm too afraid to follow
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