People said that the oil was cold And the old Gods were pushing up mold We strung our instruments And got ready for the embarrassments In the middle of a lunatic world We didn’t reach for the champion’s pearl Excavated a private hallway And chose "sometimes" over "almost always"
We’ll try it anyway Don’t care about success and failure Just want a chance to impale the jailer Don’t long for yesterday Or hope for a good tomorrow This very hour is less than borrowed
Gun show Move slow Every hour is a year to the crows Small stage Ice age Never listen to the things that people say
We stood at the very last edge Of everything that had ever been said Took a look at the people’s archive Nodded politely and chose the swan-dive There are no heroes in the room Just ghouls in the rock & roll tomb Do we look like statues to you for slide projection And pin-cushion voodoo?