| From my tape deck there’s a recklessness
|
| Inflections of the world we want
|
| All my friends, my rusty truck
|
| We’re just specs of love, directionless
|
| We’ll call this band just what we want
|
| We can change the name from month to month
|
| Four guitars and zero drums
|
| We sounded folk but we wanted to be punk
|
| In a world post punk
|
| My friend had an old guitar
|
| He took some lessons, didn’t get very far
|
| An Ibanez with one knob stuck
|
| Said you can have that thing for fifty bucks
|
| Loren got a bass but he got no amp
|
| We borrowed Skill’s, we never gave it back
|
| Luke was just learning how to strum
|
| But since he was the worst
|
| We made him play the drums
|
| Play the drums
|
| You may find in the palm
|
| Of your hand there’s a flame
|
| As it burns, as it climbs
|
| As it turns to a blaze
|
| Well this flame, it won’t last
|
| Here it comes, hold it close
|
| Because this blaze can be fast
|
| Set it free now there it goes
|
| Luke’s mom said that after school
|
| We could rehearse in the living room
|
| But that sure didn’t last too long
|
| Guess she didn’t know we played Fugazi songs
|
| Play these songs in the talent show
|
| And all of the girls will be in the front row
|
| But in the end we just chickened out
|
| Because we can’t sing, we can only shout
|
| Only shhhhhhh…
|
| You may find in the palm
|
| Of your hand there’s a flame
|
| As it burns, as it climbs
|
| As it turns to a blaze
|
| Well this flame, it won’t last
|
| Here it comes, hold it close
|
| Well this blaze can be fast
|
| Set it free now there it goes |