We Live Again - Beck

These withered hands have dug for a dream

Sifted through sand and leftover nightmares

Over the hill, a desolate wind

Turns shit to gold and blows my soul crazy

The end, oh, the end

We live again

Oh, I grow weary of the end

Oh, hungry days in the footsteps of fools

Gazing alone through sex-painted windows

Dredging the night, drunk libertines

Stink like colognes from a new-fangled wasteland

The end, oh, the end

We live again

Oh, I grow weary of the end

Love is a plague in a mix-match parade

Where the castaways look so deranged

When will children learn to let their wildernesses burn

And love will be new, never cold and vacant

These withered hands have dug for a dream

Sifted through sand and leftover nightmares

The end, oh, the end

We live again

Oh, I grow weary of the end