make no mistakes
there is a gray sky above me
a tiara that's lost its sparkle
we crush it with a bat hammered with nails
and take off the goggles and think it cool
basking in the moonlight
we'll somehow get a tan and call it cool
have no fear
the sun is stalking me
it's a beautiful thing tarnished with ketchup
or maybe stained like our politicans
we constantly quest for the perfect grape
round, sweet, and seedless, and once we have it
then we'll eat it and make it cool
sharing a can and splitting a pizza
we taste the kicks on the sidewalk and the American bastardy
let's dance the dance
there are the winds that won't stop talking
we close the window then someone breaks it with his hands
his hands are bleeding but he's smiling
and the clouds haven't said a thing
but we wait until they open again
there is a hope
under a gray sky.