I Think My First Instrument

I Saw A Dead Head Sticker On A Cadillac. A Little Voice Inside My Head Said, Don't Look Back, You Can Never Look Back.

O' Beautiful For Spacious Skies But Now Those Skies Are Threatening They're Beating Plowshares Into Swords For This Tired Old Man That We Elected King Armchair Warriors Often Fail And We've Been Poisoned By These Fairy Tales The Lawyers Clean Up All Details Since Daddy Had To Lie But I Know A Place Where We Can Go And Wash Away This Sin We'll Sit And Watch The Clouds Roll By And The Tall Grass Wave In The Wind Just Lay Your Head Back On The Ground And Let Your Hair Spill All Around Me Offer Up Your Best Defence But This Is The End This Is The End Of The Innocence

I Remember A Time When Things Were A Lot More Fun Around Here, When Good Was Good And Evil Was Evil, Before Things Got Fuzzy.

What Are These Voices Outside Love's Open Door, Make Us Throw Off Our Contentment, And Beg For Something More?

How Can Love Survive In Such A Graceless Age? The Trust And Self Assurance That Lead To Happiness, They're The Very Things We Kill.