One Victim Lives In Tragedy, Another Victim

And You Pretend It Doesn't Bother You, When You Just Want To Explode.

Out Past The Cornfields Where The Woods Got Heavy, Out In The Back Seat Of My '60 Chevy. Workin' On Mysteries Without Any Clues, Workin' On Our Night Moves.

It's A Rite Of Passage For The Everyman, To A Higher Ground.

The Years Rolled Slowly Past And I Found Myself Alone. Surrounded By Strangers I Thought Were My Friends, I Found Myself Further And Further From My Home.

It Went On Yesterday And It's Going On Tonight, Somewhere There's Somebody Ain't Treatin' Somebody Right.