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Outdated like the old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
