It was a birthday gift

of a Mexican Telecaster

And 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, 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 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

but this band will play on

Because all we can do is what we've always done.

And on and on and on...