| I was turning nineteen, on a cold December night
|
| Burning like kerosene for nearly half of my life
|
| And I barely had the GPA to make it out of Eugene
|
| You can blame it on me with a ADHD while I’m falling asleep during the Sat’s
|
| And as I pack my bags and headed to a foreign land
|
| One way ticket on a one way plane
|
| Laying my head down alone each night
|
| The same devil’s calling and that same old fight
|
| 'Cause this one’s for middle surfs living in the middle love
|
| Where they coming from and a halfway rush of blood
|
| This ones for those first prayers to heaven on a road that seems never ending
|
| For all the heartbreak dreamers waiting for the light
|
| Looking for just one reason to get through the night
|
| Every long lost believer caught in the fight
|
| All the heartbreak dreamers gonna be alright
|
| Everybody sing
|
| La la…
|
| And I was turning twenty five in a city that don’t sleep
|
| Was feeling only half alive to the dreams that I keep
|
| And I kept on waiting only she’s waiting for me
|
| You burning down lane on a quarter tank of pain with soles off your feet
|
| And you’ve been waiting and praying for the right one to come
|
| Watch the rising and the falling of another setting sun
|
| Nobody seems quite good enough for you except the wrong one she keep running
|
| back to
|
| So this one’s for Mike still waiting for his wife
|
| This one’s for grandma losing the love of her life
|
| This ones for those first prayers to heaven on a road that seems never ending
|
| For all the heartbreak dreamers waiting for the light
|
| Looking for just one reason to get through the night
|
| Every long lost believer caught in the fight
|
| All the heartbreak dreamers gonna be alright
|
| Everybody sing
|
| La la…
|
| And this one right here ah. |
| this is for the fat girls
|
| This one is a… is for the little brothers
|
| This is for the schoolyard wimps, for the childhood bullies who tormented them
|
| To the former prom queen and to the milk-crate ball players
|
| For the nighttime cereal eaters and for the retired elderly walmart store front
|
| door greeters
|
| Shake the dust
|
| This is for the benches and the people sitting upon
|
| For the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns
|
| To the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children
|
| For the nighttime schoolers and for the midnight bike riders trying to fly
|
| Shake the dust
|
| This is for the two-year-olds who cannot be understood because they speak half
|
| English and half God
|
| Shake the dust
|
| For the boys with the beautiful beautiful sisters
|
| Shake the dust
|
| For the girls with those brothers who are going crazy
|
| Those gym class wallflowers and the twelve-year-olds afraid of taking public
|
| showers
|
| For the kid who is always late to class and forgets the combination to his
|
| lockers
|
| And the girl who loved somebody else
|
| Shake the dust
|
| This is for the hard men who want love but know that it won’t come
|
| For the one’s amendments who not stand up for
|
| For the ones who are forgotten
|
| For the ones who are told to speak only when you are spoken to
|
| And then they are never spoken to speak (La la…)
|
| Every time you stand so you do not forget yourself
|
| Do not let one moment go by that doesn’t remind you that your heart beats
|
| hundred thousand times a day
|
| And that they have gallons of blood making every one is an Oceans |