It was a birthday gift of a Mexican Telecaster, that from this day on I will play along to all my Young Pioneers records. And there will be a poetry, spoken silently, between me and the stereo. I'll work mornings and you can work through the night. Mary (as in "the virgin"), there is no hope for us. If this GM van don't make it across the state line, we might as well lay down and die. Because if florida takes us, we're taking everyone down with us. Where we're coming from (yeah) will be the death of us. And I cannot help but hold on to a handful of times, when what was spoken was a revolution in itself, and what we were doing was the only thing that mattered. And how good it felt to kill the memory of nights spent holding your shirt for the smell. I heard you used to cry when you made love to him. This band will play on. Because all we can do is what we've always done.
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