Back in the summer of '91

An angel with a lizard's tongue

Was screming for a holy broken nose

Linked to every class of men

Sprung out from the sparkling sins

Leaning on the cold electric stove

On a country road I swerved to the side

Trying to avoid a country bumpkin

Everyone's in line to meet with the man

Who blatantly inspired his generation

When they shake his hand and their fingers explode

Breaking both our necks by the tips of our toes

Then they turn to me, cause you died I suppose

But I can't seem to glance fast enough to be sure

Back to summer days, cold hands on the beach

Memories of thrills designed to please you

Down the fragrant path I strayed towards the bath

Suddenly I lived to learn to feed you

Down on bended knee, where I've been for a while

Set the record straight in the old fashioned style

Never took too much, though I should have made more

You are still my friend, though you were not before