For a chemical imbalance, you sure know how to ride a train Your revolution is a deathbed, and the music is your maid When someone comes a knocking with a needle on a tray Only your lonesome lies beside you For you told me not to stay You are somebody's baby Some mother held you near No it's not important, they're just pretty words, my dear There is no distraction that can make me disappear No there's nothing that won't remind you I will always be right here And you spit the blood back, spit the blood back Baby, I'm amazed that you're alright Oh, so long prison boy, I won't be home with you tonight We're both very sick, our muscles all worn down It's as if we are one-hundred—no, I won't still be around Because I've fallen, yes I've fallen right into the love I found Long before I reach one-hundred I'll have fallen to the ground And for generations They'll romance us make us more Or much less than than ever was before, the Chelsea and the floor Make us stand before the masses like two speakers for the poor When there was no revolution Nothing we were fighting for And you spit the blood back, spit the blood back Baby, I'm amazed that you're alright Oh, so long prison boy, I won't be home I won't be home I won't be home I won't be home with you tonight And you can call the service bell When we stay at the Chelsea hotel And I'll stay out of my own hell So long prison boy, I won't be home I won't be home I won't be home With you tonight