defeat. I walk along these no-name streets. Wave goodbye to all. As I fall. . At the dead-end I begin. To burn a bridge ofinnocence. Satisfaction guaranteed. A pillow-weight catastrophe. . On a
goodbye to Miss Fourth of July. The queen of the roses has left us with nothing but thorns. Don't say we never tried, Miss Fourth of July. The stars that we reached for left us with nothing but dawn I
blue jean girl. We took that Chevy for a whirl. Innocence and butterflies. We left them both behind. On the night of our lives. We were young and we were green. But we grew up fast in that back seat. The