Life is a maze spending your days. Truth is a haze punching your face. And time is a friend who outgrows you in the end, but it's all right

Love is a sign we’re all benign. Hate someone say’s why it’s too late. I’m sure we’re at a stage; the coming of a golden age, you’re free to join us; the club of all the fortunate dreamers in tin­foil hats, mmm

Oh well, that was it and here you sit. Doesn't it hurt a little bit? To know there was a time you could have done something sublime, but I'm sorry!
Once we get too old, toothless and all bald, there’s no turning back, there’s no turning back, there's no turning back, there's no turning back