What holy cities are to nomadic tribes - a symbol of race and a bond of union - great books are to the wandering souls of men: they are the Meccas of the mind.
G.E. Woodberry
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In the End
All brawn and no brains
And all those nice things
And you finally got what you want
Someone to look good with
And light your cigarette
Is this what you really want?
I figured out what you're all about
And I don't think I like what I see so
I hope I won't be there in the end
if you come around
How long will he last
Before he's a creep in the past
And you're alone once again?
Will you pop up again
And be my special friend
'Till the end?
And when will that be?
I figured out what you're all about
And I don't think I like what I see
I hope I won't be there in the end
if you come around
I figured out what you're all about
And I don't think I like what I see so
I hope I won't be there in the end
if you come around