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(don henley/stan lynch)Maybe just a good night's sleepWould have changed your troubled mindFrom that rather permanent decisionSo tragic, so unkindNow, pain is what you've givenAnd sleep is what you'll getSo far away from that sweet baby childWho hardly knew you yetNow he'll grow up to be a fighterFull of anger, full of shameLike all the other haunted childrenWho wonder why they cameAnd he'll be in and out of troubleUntil he stands up or he fallsBut there will always be a shadow thereNo matter how it goesDamn it, roseIs this another cryptic messageOr some kind of cosmic quizIf there's a lesson to be learned from thisWell, I don't know what it isYou could have given us the fingerMuch more constructively than thatNow I sit here with the mtvAnd your bloated, burmese catWe're being treated to the wisdomOf some puffed up little fartDoing exactly what I used to do¡ºPretentions to anarchy and artHe speaks the language of a warriorHe mounts his misinformed attackHe wears the clothes of a dissenterBut there's a logo on his backAnd it's a hollow rebellionAs rebellions mostly areIt's just another raging tempest in a jarAnd the seasons keep on changingAnd the wind blows hot and coldWish that you were here with us to watch this tideAs it ebbs and flowsDamn it, rose
(don henley/stan lynch)Maybe just a good night's sleepWould have changed your troubled mindFrom that rather permanent decisionSo tragic, so unkindNow, pain is what you've givenAnd sleep is what you'll getSo far away from that sweet baby childWho hardly knew you yetNow he'll grow up to be a fighterFull of anger, full of shameLike all the other haunted childrenWho wonder why they cameAnd he'll be in and out of troubleUntil he stands up or he fallsBut there will always be a shadow thereNo matter how it goesDamn it, roseIs this another cryptic messageOr some kind of cosmic quizIf there's a lesson to be learned from thisWell, I don't know what it isYou could have given us the fingerMuch more constructively than thatNow I sit here with the mtvAnd your bloated, burmese catWe're being treated to the wisdomOf some puffed up little fartDoing exactly what I used to do¡ºPretentions to anarchy and artHe speaks the language of a warriorHe mounts his misinformed attackHe wears the clothes of a dissenterBut there's a logo on his backAnd it's a hollow rebellionAs rebellions mostly areIt's just another raging tempest in a jarAnd the seasons keep on changingAnd the wind blows hot and coldWish that you were here with us to watch this tideAs it ebbs and flowsDamn it, rose
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