The circus freaks and malcontents The Trotskyists and the troubadours that I call friends With sleight of hand or With tender reticence Declare their independence If the minute you're born Till the day that you die Feels like one long, unbroken road Of compromise Well there's a detour from this grey path you're on You've just got to hang on While the city slips to sleep so sound, so sound All the pretty hipsters pull you down, down, down Say, "there's another shade to paint this town" Paint this town or burn it down The hearts on sleeves And friends on floors Like casualties make it hard to believe In the end of the war But if a dull peace makes you happy kid You'll be the first one that it ever did So don't let go, no, just hang on to your Id Jump off and hang on