All the day I need for me
there’s nothing here for you to see
…but the sun

you waive a small axe everytime
when you can’t keep up w/my mind
…where is mine

it’s the way that you bring me down,
and rhyme about your ways, everyday
…till’ we’re old and grey

it’s just a miniature revolution
take and make for a solution
if you draw your own conclusion
you will find what keeps us moving

to your sweet taboo, lead me back to you
I’m the mourning son, you’re the pulling gun
if this bird has flown, break your telephone
and you know, its easy just to comeback

watch the seaside in the snow,
break on through the undertow
…see the show

to the end is positive
and laugh at all the things we did
…while we live

it’s the way we we’re so young and dumb,
summer to the end would come,
…or my brain is numb

it’s just another break in the station
shine a light my young vibration
if your not afraid of dying
what’s the use to keep on trying

…for your sweet taboo