Should there be songs? Should my hair be long? Should my stare be strong? Do nightmares belong, on the prairie at dawn? Do I dare to fawn over fair-faced blonds? Should there be bonds to their hair undrawn? Should my prayers be bronze? Are affairs so wrong? I have been told That my skin is exceptionally smooth But what good is that? When to get to my heart You have to crawl through tight tunnels of sharp rock