Longing for the schoolyard Reaching for the scenes Reminded by the songs that will never disappear Random like the infants Outdated like the old Lying there in aimlessness listening to the cure Doing some rehearsal Excercising in the cold Lowering the standart For the six-string never rolled Whistling at the girls And saving for the fuel Making plans and knock, knock, knock on wood
Play some rock Play some rock Please don't stop Coming home, coming home
Sentenced by our faults That we were to make in time Pleasently aware Of our solitude in mind Saved me from the boredom Of what we disavowed Encouraged by the sound That was the sweetest one of all Admiring your senses Infected by your tongue Defenceless I believed That we'd face anything to come You innocently told me You'd catch me when I fall And solemnly we'd knock, knock, knock on wood
Play some rock Play some rock Please don't stop Coming home, coming home