They'll talk about you nonetheless, you can do what you want and you can do what they want.. they'll still talk. You stand in a vacuum. You hear the lyrics in Dylan's songs, you're charged.. You want to change the world, so you google preferences that adjust to your personality. You take up a flag and fight a two-hour cause and come home to watch a rerun of Dharma & Greg. Yes, I'm a nineties cliche.
You say you're a European soul and you feel the need to be on your own with a one-way ticket to some Parisian hide-out and fight the good fight, eat bacterial cheese, drink wine that's not red and jump off an open cliff into a sea bluer that the Spaniard's eyes, dance in a fountain for the amusement of people who do not know you and go into a sex-shop because you are now finally, of age. And let me assure you on most days I will join you. But not today.
I see a fire burning on my way home, a fire in the hearts of youth everywhere. But I tell you the fire will burn out, a man will die and your dreams will be crushed. Pope teaches of an 'eternal' hope. But you know what they really say about hope. It withers and dies before its time and you carry your dreams in a gunnysack that your gran' gave you when you were eight.
With oft fleeting optimism I say to you; fight for what you believe in and stay, like a loyal dog. Do not let your head wander, do not fancy a pair of jeans. Stay and argue, question and trust. Pledge your allegiance.
Give us hope. Give me hope.
