We had crossed our lines and dug in On fields that were once green Rushing and falling, our conscience in our ears We won the war and floated High as pride can climb Home across the ocean to find all our gods were dead In our eyes shine nothing But youth and all its flame Feeding on itself as if the devil may care In an axiom is religion "To eat, drink, and be merry" We danced on the altar "for tomorrow we die" Everything's been figured, but figured wrong The good time rags are all gone Everything's been figured, but figured wrong My "Oxford Bags" are all worn "At 18 our convictions are hills from which we look At 45 they're caves into which we hide" I was high as pride can climb Climbing to salvation No one was saved and no one born again