So you've got a grudge and a roll of dollar bills stuffed in your pocket
   staring through other people's lives and loves with those hungry eyes,
and wading through the refuse you've piled about yourself.
 
 So you go burning bridges and murdering saints, weeping oil and restitution
movin and groovin and trying oh so hard to impress those ghosts,
   those shades shackled to your heart trailing behind you like hamstrung legs.

So you go on wishing you were Dante and stumbling over Elliot,
   stuck in a loop, stuck in the past, or is it the past that's stuck in you?

So you blame the world, blame the stars, blame the very beauty that it hurts
   you to see, hurts you to love, but more than anything you blame me.

Well that's too bad, that you don't want to see, too bad that you don't want
   to be stuck inside of me, torn apart and inside out, just too **** bad
that you don't wanna be sad when the sun rises and shows me who you really are.
  
Now let me tell you something boy, and I'll be extremely concise, as forward
   as I can: It's time to stop running like a hunted thing in the night,
time to turn, to change and fight.

But you've got that grudge, and those dollar bills, and you wanna find some pretty,
   broken thing to spend it on; yeah to find some hopeless eyes to rub your
empty heart on, or maybe some sad hippie girl to get your conscience on.