Men doing men-thing times,
Chewing candy and tabacco lines,
Drinking harpoon pints,
Tossing nickels and dimes

They're looking for exit signs
They're looking for lucky nines
They're talking in boring rhymes
Damn, they're keeping up old times

My teacher died
Even the frying pan cried
Rain fell slow according to castle-time;
I was only nine

I was looking for exit signs
I was looking for lucky nines,
And we're talking in boring rhymes
Face it, we're living in war times

Let's cry about it
Let's cry about it
You can cry about it
Don't be embarrassed;
I won't laugh at you

The river flows north and winds
Travelling south, you hit wind-time
The passers-by are not kind,
But the sky is sublime

Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah