out on the road little boys let their beards grow oh so busy talking about the things that we dont know all done worrying about the things we used to be (im too busy finding out what im gonna be) and finding weapons of mass destruction to combat this boredom that claws at my eyes, my ears no longer can i worry about whether these words have touched you or failed you& fuck, youre too busy bitching about clothes that do not fit "so play the violins" ill keep getting in the van worry about money for the rest of my life just so that you can have this to talk about our time is to spned time with you and if you dont want it well thats fine too walk right out that door this room was growing cold with you this room that is my home and i cannot and i must not and i will not let clean shaven boys that all look the same toss hand grenades into this my faith