Tired blood traded on the highway's stripes, Pete Townsend's patented Gibson SG smash Signify to us a time in which to dash The engines and extradite the superhype. Concrete communications Disturb our relations: Pebbles in our pool. I'm such a fool Thinking I can write; Alone at night, No one in sight; I've got to fight. It's just my freedom -- So much that counts And what amounts To bringing me home Again. Dash it and you and the total mundane; I'm foaming at the mouth again, And the dewdrop enters The stream of the sea. It's surely not me; I've got work to do. |