Cold, cold 1950 a year from now I'll be away a year from now you'll hear from me my chin on the water in the darkest time I'll cut through country, country
In my wonder I can weigh the loss that we all had to suffer felt in headaches from the knowing that our heroes lives uncovered to be seen as they'd always
Shake and stir yourself into a bad excuse a half-hearted fuck you imagine all the nowhere places we'd have been and all the cynicism aside, and let me
Maybe, mabe in a lifetime the ones that we will resurrect my monument immortal but tarnished I suspect that holdes my generations failures put to song
