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...
