Boris the Manskinner

By the coast on a hillside where you sleep
In a meadow downstream
And the red sun shining tells us of tomorrow's heat
Yet we lay down, we're throwing our lives away

Each day is the same
Just waiting for tomorrow to bring that sweet summer rain
And I know this is hard, but I can't tell you apart anymore

In the town where you grew up
There's a stained glass image of the world
All the people with tasks at hand
No one's drowning in debt, second-guessing their plans
What a colorful world that would be
Free from ideals and insanity
Free from teetering just on the edgе of middle class hell and mediocrity

Through thosе years, we were writing in pain
Just waiting for tomorrow to bring that sweet summer rain
And I know this is hard, I can't tell you apart anymore
Through those years, we would write all those songs
They meant nothing to the world
They meant all the world to us
So we gave it a shot, we sailed by ocean breeze
On a broken-down old boat with no chances for ends meet

Through those years, we were wrong
Were we weak or were we strong
To tell ourselves that we were right about it all?
Through those sweat soaked nights
When we thought we sawed 'em off
Just to see if they would break