Resurrection: the rebirth. Sometimes you stray away from things because you think you've outgrown them, then it turns out it's the only thing that's fit you all along. You join the circus, you take your chances. But you always come home eventually.
Drink the holy water with your palms, it's a sign of respect. Around here, the dirtier you are, the more badges you earn. This is where the angels come to play when they're off-duty. They hang up their wings until the morning light comes; but for the night, they're free.
You're in the badlands, the place where we don't talk to our mothers anymore and the coffee is always black and bitter. You're playing cards with the big boys, and we expect you to pay for your seat.
Forget what you've heard; the rumors are always a dolled-up, PG-13 version of what really happened. We're the band of outsiders, the ones that don't get invited to the parties because they're scared of our Zippos and switchblades. You belong with us; we're never the type to use the word "soiree."
The night's young, we're young, and possibilities are an endless sea that's waiting for us to swim in. Summer is a season; it leaves with fall as fast as it came with spring. But don't you worry, time is always on our side.
Just a wink and a smile, and the land is ours.