It was a birthday gift  of a Mexican Telecaster   And from this day on I will play along  to all my young pioneers records  And there will be a poetry spoken silently between me and the stereo  I'll work mornings  and you can work through the night  Mary, there is no hope for us  If this GM van don't make it  across the state line  we might as well lay down and die  Because if Florida takes us  we're taking everyone down with us  Where we're coming from (yeah)  will be the death us  And I cannot help but hold on  to a handful of times  when what was spoken  was a revolution in itself,  and what we were doing  was the only thing that mattered  And how good it felt  to kill the memory of nights spent  holding your shirt for the smell  I heard you used to cry  when you made love to him  but this band will play on  Because all we can do is what we've always done. And on and on and on...