he is the icon of our times, solution to our
An idea dies, in the same slight way, that we
I'm twenty-nine years old, still wearing the wallet chain, like
Wind passes right through my skin as I fall down,
You said, "Down with the church", with your fists up
We flew over Alaska; we saw the frozen mountains pierce
It's New Years Eve and I'm full of empty promises,
I've got pocketfuls of crumpled receipts, just about enough to
We thought we'd write a song about all of the
I know that you're probably mad at me. I've come
