the more I learn
I find how little I really know
and I'm standing here before you
I don't know nothing at all
except that there is no single saving grace
no miracle cures no resting place
I look in the mirror I see a stranger's face
and that these are good times
these are good times
good times darling
these must be good times
when the Fear hits hard
and I'm alone at night
and I can't tell the difference
between wrong and right
I say again that these are good
times
I'm as guilty as I'm afraid
about decisions that I've made
ideas that I've left behind
friends that I've betrayed
but a time's got to come
to let the past be past
to say some things
were never meant to last
and that these are good times
these are good times
good times darling
these must be good times
when the Fear hits hard
and I'm alone at night
and I can't tell the difference
between wrong and right
I say again that these are good
times
life is short
and death is long
and the drive toward self destruction
is so very very strong
but until my foghorn blows
I won't be going home
until my foghorn blows
the ghosts of Christmas past
like faded streamers feebly dangle
ripped apart at last by time and lies
and the way that they've been handled
as they fall to the floor
they wrap around a broken old radio
playing these are good times
c 1990 Zen of Iniquity Publishing
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