Books are immortal sons deifying their sires.
Plato
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Ballad for the Lost Romantics
I've grown sick
I've gotten older
I finally have an audience to ignore me
I can yell all I want
But you still, still can't hear me
I'm pushin' myself out
Holdin' in my breath
I can't take this lightly
Throwing out the words that I said to you
I always do
Do what I'm not supposed to
Here's to us fools that have no meaning
I tip my glass to you
Lets toast the night away to friends
And forget about tomorrow
I might say things you want to hear
But someday you might care
And I won't be there
No I won't be there
Here's to us fools that have no meaning
I tip my glass to you
Lets toast the night away to friends
And forget about tomorrow
Forget about tomorrow
I'm pushing myself out
Holding in my breath
I've told you all that I want
Throwing out the words that I said to you
I always do
Do what I'm not supposed to
Here's to us fools that have no meaning
I tip my glass to you
Lets toast the night away to friends
And forget about tomorrow
Here's to us fools that have no meaning
I tip my glass to you
Lets toast the night away to friends
And forget about tomorrow
Here's to us fools that have no meaning
I tip my glass to you
Lets toast the night away to friends
And forget about tomorrow