| All that matters in the end
|
| Are the good times that have been
|
| Living’s tiresome, killing a sin
|
| Death is easy if you’ve been
|
| And you don’t think of the bad times when you’re dying
|
| I don’t believe you hear what I say
|
| Don’t bar the windows, keep out of my way
|
| I’ve got so little time to pray
|
| I want to have fun
|
| I got no time to take from my games
|
| To pay my dues riding box-car trains
|
| Throw me a pillow-fight, let’s go and play
|
| I like to run
|
| So hurt no one else
|
| Put your cares on a shelf
|
| And come along with me
|
| Sweet misery
|
| It don’t matter if you’re six or sixty-three
|
| Once you have lost your hold on the dream
|
| Forget that you’re human — become a machine
|
| You’re old and you’re tethered
|
| But if you’d really like to be free
|
| Take hold of the dream, grab it with me
|
| You’ve got to take whatever you need
|
| 'Cause now is forever
|
| So hurt no one else
|
| Put your cares on a shelf
|
| And come along with me
|
| Sweet misery
|
| All that matters in the end
|
| Are the good times that have been
|
| Living’s tiresome, killing a sin
|
| Death is easy if you’ve been
|
| And you don’t think of the bad times when you’re dying |