You say you want a revolution? Well, you know, I’d love to change the world, but I don’t know what to do. 

The butter wouldn’t melt, so I put it in a pie. She was just 17; you know what I mean/

In my most secure moments, I still can’t believe I’m spending those moments with you. Your name and mine, inside a heart, upon a wall, still find a way to haunt me, though they’re so small.

The man from the magazine said I was on my way. I have squandered my resistance for a pocket full of mumbles. Such are promises: All lies and jests. Still, a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.

What am I doing hanging round? I should be riding on that train to San Antone, passing trains that have no name and the graveyards of the rusted automobiles, on down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.

You do me wrong to cast me off discourteously — and I have loved you oh, so long, delighting in your company. You fill up my senses! It’s not just these few hours, but I’ve been waiting since I toddled for the great relief of having you to talk to.

And now, the end is near. They’re coming to take me away. Don’t they know it’s the end of the world? The sun ain’t gonna shine anymore, the moon ain’t gonna rise in the sky. And I feel fine.

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