Sixteen years old, and she does her hair in the mirror
And the river, sure it flows, but it does so to be near her
And I haven’t yet to quit
I’ve got a carton from the Natives
And my hands they smell of sex and perfume still undetermined
And stolen beer from up the road by a rainbow that is fallen
And if you’ll come pick me up I bet I’ll fit upon your shoulders
Like my father used to do before time had bowled him over

And you’re afraid…
But all the power they have is all the power you gave away

Bad Religion, I have listened
I’ve got all your tapes in my car
And when I am old enough I’ll dye my hair and join the grand march
The prom is coming up and it’s looking like I’ll take her
And if my eyes are burning blue then I’m delivered from the maker
I’ve got black kids at my school, but they haven’t acclimated
And I’ve sent them all a wish, but it hasn’t yet been granted
And I’m standing by the edge of the future’s only forest
For the horoscope believes that I’m a Virgo you’re a Taurus

And I came inside the heart of a shadow cause I loved her
But I woke up alcoholic on the bridge of knowing better
And I tried to sing a song across a chasm growing wider
But my voice was fallen leaves for the crippled kids to gather
A basket of fallen stars spilled across an oily puddle
To a father growing up to the pencil growing shorter
Till it only can erase the markings of beginners