Back in the summer of '91    An angel with a lizard's tongue    Was screming for a holy broken nose    Linked to every class of men    Sprung out from the sparkling sins    Leaning on the cold electric stove       On a country road I swerved to the side    Trying to avoid a country bumpkin    Everyone's in line to meet with the man    Who blatantly inspired his generation       When they shake his hand and their fingers explode    Breaking both our necks by the tips of our toes    Then they turn to me, cause you died I suppose    But I can't seem to glance fast enough to be sure       Back to summer days, cold hands on the beach    Memories of thrills designed to please you    Down the fragrant path I strayed towards the bath    Suddenly I lived to learn to feed you       Down on bended knee, where I've been for a while    Set the record straight in the old fashioned style    Never took too much, though I should have made more    You are still my friend, though you were not before