Tour Song

(альбом: Bivouac - 1992)

"It's Sunday. We're broken down in the top of Massachusetts looking for a hotel room. The show's off, uh, it's pretty heavy."

Seven hundred miles to play to fifteen angry men
I need some sleep
They hate the songs, we hate 'em too
This show is free
Twenty minutes in, I broke another fucking string
Just call it luck
They start to leave, I start to plead
Someone, someone yells, "You suck!"

Suddenly that Joe kicks hard in my veins
I cool down
Things sound good right now
Suddenly fists turn into brave ears, move as one

Funny how no one knows we came
They wouldn't come anyway
Should I feel grateful to play?
I'm living life my way
I fell in love with my enemy
I let go of everything I had left at home
I fell in love with my enemy
I let go

Two cool people came
They're hiding by the door
Eyes wide with fright
A guy, a girl
In love with the whole world
It almost makes it right

Suddenly that Joe kicks hard in my veins
I cool down
Things sound good right now
Suddenly fists turn into brave ears, move as one

Funny how no one knows we came
They wouldn't come anyway
Should I feel grateful to play?
I'm living life my way
I fell in love with my enemy
I let go of everything I had left at home
I fell in love with my enemy
I let go of everything I had left at home

Every little thing, every little thing
Every little, every little thing, every little thing
Every little thing, every little thing must go wrong