Sad willow lost the will to weep And bow to dying swan Touching 90 Midnight Mid-July Were crouching by the pond Taking shots at those unwary Taking shots at piles of cans Don't you smear my face paint, honey Keep that shaky hand Pressed to your mouth Out here we're on our own And yeah, we're probably surrounded Could call it quits right now And simply throw the bloody towel in Heads hung low Hands in the air I'm sorry Hell, I'm sorry And when they least expect it We shall take 'em in a blaze of glory See the future See the chalk lines In our last embrace We'll take you home We'll light your path Make my day