Sure, we have no secrets left
but its so cowardly to just give up
Bohemians, poets, all swine
On the road's the silliest shit I've ever read
'cause heroes and heroines stay put
with their backs against the wall
only skin pressed against the edges
they claw, they swing, and bite
for dear life, or someone else's
without a reward
that they've never even craved
they press on, bite their tongues, and shut their mouths
Darling the thing we want the most
is something we can never attain
november, a wall of wet concrete
where a silly dream of escape's born
just to crash and then burn
but heroes and heroines stay put
they spit against the wind
and warm our hands
so we never lose sight of
the love that we deserve
they dare to believe and hope
that someone, up there, sees us
someone who would rather meet us with forgiveness rather than judgement
for something we didn't even know we had done