Jackson Browne's singing: "And the angels are older..."
Buskers at the corners burning their guitars
Their mothers cried blood when you're gone
Their girlfriends in a row sketching your face on the walls
With candles in their hands when you're gone
And I don't know why you've been faking
Those smiles of yours
And I don't know why you've been waiting
For love to bring you home
They turned your playground into a churchyard
They named it by you when you're gone
Love is for trade, porn is the currency
And music is forbidden by the lord when you're gone
And I don't know why you've been faking
Those smiles of yours
And I don't know why you've been waiting
For love to bring you home
A fragile vagabond in the making
(On the way to his own shining star)
A reckless hobo eternally waking
(With his soul hanging onto a broken guitar)
You've been dreaming with your tears run dry
Nobody taught you how to dive or run or fly
I missed your last sigh
Jackie told you: "You better quit this scene, before it leans,
Before it keens, before it messes up your genes (think about it)".
And I was thinking: "Tell him something more for love's sake,
You're his God and he's just fucking sixteen."
He said: "Classrooms won't do you any good,
You really should be in Hollywood if you could,
And that's what I mean".
And I thought: "He was born to feel misunderstood.
He was the most ill-fated kid that I have ever seen"
Mothers cried blood when you're gone
Mothers cried blood when you're gone
Mothers cried blood when you're gone
Mothers cried blood when you're gone
Mothers cried blood when you're gone
Mothers cried blood when you're gone
When you're gone...