What's the use of writing,
when there's nothing left to say?
When the days almost gone
and you've been led astray from all
that inhabits you and your promise of God,
you've got priorities, kid.
What happened to Spring and the island?
What happened to staying young?
What happened to us?
Call me jaded,
I think I'm not.
But a songs a song,
take your morals and your values,
but a song will be a song,
cry and cry, laugh and hide,
you've got things to keep
and recipies to share,
and I hope you'll always know,
a song will always be a song.
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