He was one of the few [bad word] rebels, a small town bomber
Drew his final tag and ran out of sight 
And he was no simple thief or dirty robber
21 years of age he kissed the world goodnight

He said I'm leaving
I've seen it all
Your name is written on the wall

2 o'clock in a weak condition
Riding on his bike through the old neighborhood
Accept the [bad word] see the death of a vision
Wondering about the things he never understood

Soul scars and homeward bound
When all your dreams are falling dead to the ground
Soul scars and grinding pain
Old friend, memories remain