Arguing with the Dead

Back in the day of my first band

Our drummer had a crazy dad,

Screamin' like we were the devil's own,

With our pawnshop amps and our Silvertones.

"Do you kids know what the paper says?

We're goin' to war over the Mayaguez.

Straighten up fast, stop foolin' around,

Save your souls 'cause you're goin' down."

He was waitin' for the pale horse to come on by

And drag all of us across the sky.

Dreamin' 'bout fire, dreamin' 'bout brimstone,

An angry little man and he died alone.

Well all these years after the fact,

I still replay that little act;

I think about things that I should've said

But it's no use arguing with the dead.

I was in college when John Lennon died,

A paranoid friend took me aside

And said "The government had it all arranged,

He was fanning revolution's flames."

He said "They're funneling money through the banks

And they're bailing out Detroit to build the tanks.

You can hear the jets from dusk to dawn,

They're calling the shots and they shot John."

He drove off a bridge one moonlit night,

No one ever knew how or why;

I still hear his rants ringing in my head

But it's no use arguing with the dead.

I live in a world of big-time talkers,

I live in a world of gray-haired punk rockers,

Trapped in the echoes and bouncing around,

Talkin' 'bout how it should've gone down.

And believe you me, I can sympathize,

You feel the wind when it passes you by.

But what can you say, what can you do,

But nod your head, "I loved it, too."

I'm packin' my things, gonna get out of town

I've spun my wheels right into the ground,

When I get to Heaven it'll clear my head

'Cause it's no use arguing with the dead.