Living the Dream

"You" another tired second-person address,

words written hastily and under duress.

I'm cold and holed up in the back of the van,

devoid of eloquence or elegant plan.

And I'm paranoid,

and I can't help but think

that somewhere someone

is listening in.

But all the words that I kept in my pockets,

jotted down on supermarket receipts,

at base turned out to be solid masonry.

And I'm scared of the kids

who come to our shows,

and scared of the words

that they seem to know,

because in truth all my high ideals are in ruins,

in truth I don't really know what I'm doing.

Growing out of these clothes turned out to mean

losing certainty.

So sing

"your" voices level the land, my Jericho,

my rock and sure foundation.

Every love that made me lose my reasoning,

every cause that made my conscience ache,

every day spent counting hours

well, none of them comes close

to singing back a song inside my head.

I always had a song inside my head.

And yes, there are times when I am tired and stressed,

when I am hasty and I'm under duress.

I'm a narcissist and I'm not at my best

I have to say I'm not impressed.

Of all the things that I believed in my teens,

I'm left with unread books and badly made 'zines...

Some might-have-beens that somehow even yet

bring a spring to my step.

I remember calloused hands and paint-stained jeans,

and I remember safe-as-houses self-belief.

Sing

"your" voices of destruction,

my rock and sure foundation,

my rock and sure foundation.

Every love that made me lose my reasoning,

every cause that made my conscience ache,

and every day spent counting hours

well, none of them comes close

to singing back a song inside my head.

And every line that made me lose my reasoning,

every chord that made my conscience ache,

every sound a memory...

That's all I ever need.

I always have a song inside my head.

I always have a song inside my head.

I always have a song inside my head.