When I met you, love,
On last April's fourteenth day,
While on that month long
Road trip, we got lost,
Found a bar, and went inside
With an empty hand.

I fulfilled my hand
That night, when I met you, love.
You snuck me inside
Your room night and day;
I must admit, I got lost.
But not for too long.

‘Cause the road is long
Ahead; and a bird in hand
Is worth two you’ve lost.
When I met you, love,
It was on the fourteenth day,
And you stayed inside.

And you stayed inside
For just way too ******* long.
Windows shut by day,
Lights at night in hand.
That night, when I met you, love,
Were you just as lost?

That night, we were lost;
At the bar we sat inside.
When I met you, love,
I still had a long
Way to go. But bird in hand
Was worth two that day

Till there comes the day
When I’ve found what isn’t lost,
That a bird in hand
Is worth two inside
The bush. It’s been so long since
When I met you, love,

That day spent inside.
I lost you; it took too long
For your hand in love.

When I learned your love
Was now not mine for all time,
I disarmed my heart,
Because I thought life
Was what you saw with the eyes,
Not what you could feel.

Now, all I can feel
Is loathsome hatred, not love,
For my trickster eyes
That looked into time
Without seeing any life,
Neither soul nor heart.

And yet, still my heart
Beats on, till the day I feel
How swift is life,
And learn I need love.
I will beg of you this time,
With blood in my eyes,

With blood in my eyes.
Fragile is my lonesome heart;
Help me thru the time
So I learn to feel
Once more the fullness of love,
And how to live life.

For to have a life,
You owe the light of your eyes
And sweet breath. What's love
To a pale-green heart?
Not even worms does it feel,
Unimpressed with time,

Unexplained by time,
And knowing that dream called life;
How bad it did feel!
With blood in my eyes,
I beg you, take it to heart
That you have my love,

When in time, my eyes
See life in anothers' heart,
And it's me you love.

When I was a boy,
I was destined to rule.
Divine right of the king
Means there wasn't a school.
I'd sit on my throne,
And long to look at the clouds,
And laugh at the pictures in them;
Now I'm under this shroud.

They say that a man
Is supposed to work to his bone,
But I'm only just a boy
Taken from his home.

When I was a boy,
I was put on a ship;
One leg of the triangle,
My back, they would whip.
I was brought to the new world
Where the faces weren't black,
And the flag had thirteen stripes;
That match the ones on my back.

They say that a man
Is supposed to work to his bone,
But I'm only just a boy
Taken from his home.

When every last oil rig coughs up sand,
And the tarred and feathered dove strokes dry land:
Maybe, baby, the world will get small;
But until then,
Waddle down the hall.

When all the forbidden songs are sung by the mute,
And the regular armies are rationed their salutes:
Maybe, baby, the world will get small;
But until then,
Waddle down the hall

When them old gold miners hold their picks up with poise,
And them old blind wardens get acquainted with the noise:
Maybe, baby, the world will get small;
But until then,
Waddle down the hall.

And so, come morning time, be there a sky of blood,
I’ll ride every alley way, be them filled with mud;
And maybe, baby, the ball will fall;
But until then,
Waddle down the hall.

The high noon
Of his wound
Blinds my
Cry.

It should've been simple
To work it out,
And leave it all behind us,
But it won't be now.
It should've been easy
To live our life in love,
And reach our full potential,
It should've been simple.

I'll be so glad
When the sun goes down,
(And there's a darkness
On the edge of town)
And I'm on that midnight train
To leave behind my pain.
It was never meant to fall,
And above all:

It should've been simple
To work it out,
And leave it all behind us,
But it won't be now.
It should've been easy
To live our life in love,
And reach our full potential,
It should've been simple.

One foot on the platform,
One foot on the train;
Up above a raging storm,
Down below a freezing rain,
It was never meant to fall,
And above all:

It should've been simple
To work it out,
And leave it all behind us,
But it won't be now.
It should've been easy
To live our life in love,
And reach our full potential,
It should've been simple.

Forever young are we
After they took that photo
I shed a tear molting from
The growth of the oboe
An orchestra they call us
But they misinterpret
Our melodies don't settle well
They are too far from perfect

And though an offbeat hymn
Is quite unique, the chance is slim
That you and me - you and I -
Were made to survive the night
So I suppose we juxtapose
Our movements

And drink the night away
And sing to hide away
The things we keep inside
And have a fly old time
'Cause you and me - you and I -
Were made to survive the night
So that's what we should do

Looking thru our letters
That pathetic alphabet
My smirk begins to widen
As my vision fades to flesh
And the moons that turn
Into dates upon the chart
Flash in empty space
Several centuries apart

And though the candle burns
The moonlight vandals yearn
For you and me - you and I -
To not survive the night
So be sure to endure
Their prudence

And drink the night away
And sing to hide away
The things we keep inside
And have a fly old time
Because you and me - you and I -
Were made to survive the night
So that's what we should do

Give me chastity, O Lord,
But please don't give it yet.
There's some things I'd like to do
And not have to regret.
I do pray though, O Father God,
That you are not like man,
But instead a lady, fine,
With loving, gentle hands.
And, if my desire be forbade:
Goddess, sing the rage.

If you wish to have all man
Inside your tender palm,
Flock your prophets to the mount
And tell them they are wrong.
For it was not a warrior clad
With armor and with sword,
But a woman, curious,
Who brought us to be lords.
And a mother's love cannot decay
Goddess, sing the rage

All faithfulness is out our mouths,
Our throats' an open tomb.
We seem to have forgot all
When we came from your womb.
Don't bother resting at our feet,
Your reverence is too great.
Just cast your wrath at our end
When we are at your gate.
And, in death, we'll give our praise
Goddess, sing the rage