Ripped out chords
And hang dog days
Stuck in thorns
With worn down haze
But don't undo
All that you knew
It won't come through
And lose its use
Well come and make a record
Like your dear old dad
Yeah we'll give you all the money
Then make you feel sad
So you're reaching for the mettle
And you touched it too soon
Tore the rings out your pocket
Now you're buried on the moon
Buried on the moon
Cut from roads and unthought ways
Built on grounds just made to break
But we'll undo all that we knew
It won't come through
And lose our use
Now I'm wrapped up in lives so slow
Under the guise I'm never wrong
I sometimes wish that I could be
Back again
And when I sit there all alone
Watching the Guns of Navarone
I slip into scenes that maybe I'm
Back again
With my friends
I'm back again
But lost my friends, my friends, a friend, a friend