I'm so glad she broke my heart
it's very useful for my art
and who wants to be lost in life itself
from underneath these heavy rains
the similes take off like planes
and when the women come to wish me well
I'll tell them
i can't hear you above the music
that's playing in my head
i can't see you above the music
and i can't touch you at all
So lay us off or let us starve
or make us fight so you can carve
our names onto some wall when we're no more
but try to put our songs to bed, man
they're not sleeping, they're not dead
and when death comes a knockin' at my
door
I'll cry out
i can't hear you above the music
that's playing in my head
i can't see you above the music
and you can't hurt me at all
Hide the banjos hide the drums
they're marching up the hill with guns
but we're ok and que sera blah blah
we'll tell them "burn our records, bomb
our kind we've melodies you'll never find
so if you wanted quiet -- na na na"
