It's just a scar that acts like a scar Like a car that drives like a car It's not an ominous mystery If you appreciate it's quality It's just a stone that acts like a stone Like a home that feels like a home There'll be no rude awakening When we find comfort in common things Here's to the nights of despair when the stones are carved out Here's to the mornings of hope when you're holding the end of a stroke Here's to holding the line Here's to old friends and good times There is no scene no plan of escape No hidden feet behind the colorful drapes There's only now and possibilities When we get cast the point of bigger trees It's just a choice that acts like a choice Like a voice that sounds like a voice We ought to take responsibillity Or we can opt the chance of liberty I'll walk you home I stop and repause Revilling echoes avoid applause I'll walk, you talk I stop and you pause I've got no clue of applausable noise Here's to the nights of despair when the stones are carved out Here's to the mornings of hope when you're holding the end of a stroke Here's to the nights of despair when the stones are carved out Here's to the mornings of hope when you're holding the end of a stroke Here's to holding the line Here's to old friends and good times