We'll correct, collegiate mistakes, a shower of formal ideals
Completely soused, the hearts on our sleeves
As they drowned we could hear them screaming
"Oh, what a tragic way to see our final days"
I attempt to talk up the town, the answers are in the arches
Of the 20th century towers and in comfortable cars in motion
And yet it still remains, this incessant refrain
You're just like the rest, your restlessness makes you lazy
Keeping busy is just wasting time and I've wasted what little he gave me
All around I know the conscious choice was crystal clear
To clean the slate of former years
When I sang softly in your ear and tied these arms around you
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