65

Before the bitching and the bore

The end of the cold war

The principles they were apparent

The bucket beside the door

The shoulder carries more

Than the sum of all our parts together

It's extraneous, aware

Did you say to us, I don't care

There's dust on my particulars

Of that you can be certain

It's times like these when I'm alone

I miss the iron curtain

Oh 65

Oh 65

Now the trouble with hanging out

Is the frequency of doubt

As it enters in the new equation

In the circus of the stars

There's the likelihood that ours

Is just a cheaper form of neurosis

It's extraneous, aware

Did you say to us, I don't care

There's dust on my particulars

Of that you can be certain

It's times like these when I'm alone

I miss the iron curtain

The good things they proceed to rot

The uselessness of smoking pot

When you think of things

You haven't got to say

Oh 65

Oh 65

Oh 65

Oh 65