Back in the summer of '91 An angel with a lizard's tongue Was scheming for a holy broken nose Linked to every class of men Sprung out from the sparkling sins Leaning on the cold electric stove On a country road I swerved to the side Trying to avoid a country bumpkin Everyone's in line to meet with the man Who blatantly inspired his generation When they shake his hand and their fingers explode Breaking both our necks by the tips of our toes Then they turn to me, cause you died I suppose But I can't seem to glance fast enough to be sure Back to summer days, cold hands on the beach Memories of thrills designed to please you Down the fragrant path I strayed towards the bath Suddenly I lived to learn to feed you Down on bended knee, where I've been for a while Set the record straight in the old fashioned style Never took too much, though I should have made more You are still my friend, though you were not before

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