Drive-in, you guzzle gin, commit a little mortal sin.
I slowly surrender to the child in me who can't say goodbye.
There's a strange sense of pleasure being beat to hell by a storm when you're on a ship that is not going to sink.
Tell me where are the flashbacks they all warned us would come?
Whatever thrills you, anything you love to do, just say - Someday, I will.
My occupational hazard is my occupation's just not around.