I can see my teenage
|
father standing straight
|
on a desolate corner
|
in the shadow
|
of tentacled towers
|
by the red light of America
|
I imagine how his mother felt
|
when she heard that
|
her husband was dying
|
and that underground heroes
|
of the tarmac shooting smack
|
were blowing up worlds
|
and Damned out loud
|
he, can you tell me
|
how does it feel
|
yeah, tell me, can you imagine
|
for a second
|
doing anything
|
that you don't have to
|
well that's what I'm accustomed
|
to so hooray for me
|
<Interlude>
|
when I slept with stony
|
faces on the riverbank
|
my angeldevil reveller
|
shook me desperately in dying
|
I don't exactly
|
want to apologize for anything
|
and now we're all mad
|
and tangled in secret rooms
|
with roman candles
|
on an endless graveyard train
|
yeah, tell me can you imagine
|
for a second
|
doing anything
|
just 'cuz you want to
|
well, that's just what
|
I do so hooray for me
|
<Interlude>
|
yeah, I was dreaming through
|
the howzlife, yawning car black
|
when she told me
|
mad and meaningless as ever
|
and a song came on my
|
radio like a cemetery rhyme
|
for a million crying corpses
|
in their tragedy
|
of respectable existence
|
<Interlude>
|
tell me can you imagine
|
for a second
|
doing anything
|
just 'cuz you want to
|
well, that's just
|
what I do so hooray for me
|
oh, yeah, I'm not respectable
|
and never sensible
|
I've been incredible
|
so damned irascible and
|
I like the things
|
I do so hooray for me
|
cked down
|
and they put you first in line
|
And so you finally ask yourself
|
just how big you are
|
and take your place in a wiser
|
world of bigger motor cars
|
<Intelrude>
|
So Where the hell was Biggles
|
when you needed him
|
last Saturday
|
And where were all the sportsmen
|
who always pulled you though
|
They're all resting down
|
in Cornwall
|
writing up their memoirs
|
for a paper-back edition
|
of the Boy Scout Manual
|
See there! A man born
|
|
-----------------
|
Hooray For Me
|
| Bad Religion |
