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
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