There's a letter at my momma's house, came with a flooded flag
it say: “right now i'm coming home in a body bag”
it's a pride and a pain that are one and the same
it's a burning cigarette, it's a horrible dream
there's a man in an office who's going through files and a woman who watches television
and she doesn't get the jokes told be late night talk show hosts, but for some reason she laughs anyway.
there's this soap in my bathroom, and it's all covered in hairs
there's this hope in my brain, and it's all covered in prayers
there's a girl in this town who doesn't know i exist
there's a wounded sense of pride and a pain in my fist
there's 12 empty bottles on this table tonight
there's 4 lungs on fire and 4 burning eyes
and something will explode, and someone will cry
and someone will run out and never turn around
there's a park in this city where i used to go
but now it's covered with fences and cops and light posts
and i'd never go back even if it was the same
but it kills me to know that it's changed
there's these kids who have dreams
there's these dreams that will grow
until they get so goddamn big that they explode
and what's left in the smoke and the falling debris
is grownups like them and losers like me
yeah
tonight let's go walking down clark street
and look at the new buildings that we've never seen
we'll stop at the bar and pass out on the floor
and tomorrow we'll forget everything and replay these days again