hell, let's do it.
go for the world
and shoot at the moon
riding rockets
in the summer sky,
don't know when
we'll be the ones to die.
sitting in the back
of a '69 pickup
just looking for disaster.

why go looking for something
you already have?
we're a hurricane in a chevy
goin' tornado down a levy.
we're avalanche of youth
suffering from famine of truth.
all on our own
looking for a loan.

misery is our collateral
so we get turned down a lot.
but we're just vagabonds
trying to find a happy song.
playing the banjo at 3AM
'till we are in REM
then the fire starts
and it burns through all our hearts.
and one day this'll all be gone,
just a photo album or an
unplayed song,
ashes long swept away,
and our own kids
will be out to play.