You sit around the record player
Your thoughts all in a line
Pretending to appreciate
The fathers of your time
Those names that they have all heard before
But whose gravity they have not
They will follow their dreams into the night
And find themselves longing for home
Back to their gods, Rum and Radio
Lie on your back, and soon you will know
Their gods, Rum and Radio
Lie on your back, and soon you will know
As well