Who wonder why they came
And your bloated Burmese cat
You could have given us the finger
So far away from that sweet baby child
Of some puffed up little fart
He wears the clothes of a dissenter
Damn it, Rose
Wish that you were here with us
Who hardly knew you yet
Well, I don't know what it is
Now he'll grow up to be a fighter
Until he stands up or he falls
To watch this tide as it ebbs and flows
And it's a hollow rebellion
And sleep is what you'll get
Now pain is what you've given
It's just another raging tempest
But there will always be a shadow there
But there's a logo on his back
Is this another cryptic message
Or some kind of cosmic quiz?
So tragic, so unkind
He mounts his misinformed attack
As rebellions mostly are
We're being treated to the wisdom
In a jar
And the wind blows hot and cold
And the seasons keep on changing
He speaks the language of a warrior
Full of anger, full of shame
Much more constructively than that
Now I sit here with the MTV
From that rather permanent decision
Pretensions to anarchy and art
If there's a lesson to be learned from this
Doing exactly what I used to do
And he'll be in and out of trouble
No matter how it goes
Like all the other haunted children
