| Song | AWOL |
| Artist | Augie March |
| Album | Havens Dumb |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Three dozen cycles, give or take a sum, | |
| The sum of that experience - how to keep running. | |
| O I know justice, it's a birthright if you're born right, | |
| and I know how handsome is that trick of the light, | |
| So don't be mistaken in thinking I'll do right | |
| given the chance to do wrong again and again. | |
| Summer romeos casing the park, | |
| by the uniform urinals of love's rural province. | |
| O don't you know time, with its petty vial of sands, | |
| inscrutable face and merciless hands? | |
| And don't you know love? | |
| It's a whirlwind of feathers, | |
| tickles you to your nethers and leaves a terrain of despair… | |
| And I know when grief goes unchecked, | |
| There's a kind of relief in the wreckage for the wrecked… | |
| Weren't you alone last time I saw you? | |
| How do you keep running from the world and the war? | |
| O I know young fathers who once were like soldiers, | |
| AWOL in flung places | |
| or without standing orders, | |
| Alarming approaches to time and it's killing, | |
| no victimless crime again and again. | |
| Monday night, Goodies and The Doctor, | |
| Now that bath time's over, time for pyjamas. | |
| O I know self pity, it begins with nostalgia, | |
| and you'll die of melancholy if the dolor don't get ya, | |
| And I know a poem on a wall next to a picture | |
| of a **** and a fanny, by a smear of regret. | |
| And it sings of its own long demise, something about imperium, | |
| and a new sun will rise, | |
| and "O please don't go with those horrible guys, they only want one thing." | |
| O please don't go with those horrible guys, they only want one thing, | |
| Again and again. |
| Three dozen cycles, give or take a sum, | |
| The sum of that experience how to keep running. | |
| O I know justice, it' s a birthright if you' re born right, | |
| and I know how handsome is that trick of the light, | |
| So don' t be mistaken in thinking I' ll do right | |
| given the chance to do wrong again and again. | |
| Summer romeos casing the park, | |
| by the uniform urinals of love' s rural province. | |
| O don' t you know time, with its petty vial of sands, | |
| inscrutable face and merciless hands? | |
| And don' t you know love? | |
| It' s a whirlwind of feathers, | |
| tickles you to your nethers and leaves a terrain of despair | |
| And I know when grief goes unchecked, | |
| There' s a kind of relief in the wreckage for the wrecked | |
| Weren' t you alone last time I saw you? | |
| How do you keep running from the world and the war? | |
| O I know young fathers who once were like soldiers, | |
| AWOL in flung places | |
| or without standing orders, | |
| Alarming approaches to time and it' s killing, | |
| no victimless crime again and again. | |
| Monday night, Goodies and The Doctor, | |
| Now that bath time' s over, time for pyjamas. | |
| O I know self pity, it begins with nostalgia, | |
| and you' ll die of melancholy if the dolor don' t get ya, | |
| And I know a poem on a wall next to a picture | |
| of a and a fanny, by a smear of regret. | |
| And it sings of its own long demise, something about imperium, | |
| and a new sun will rise, | |
| and " O please don' t go with those horrible guys, they only want one thing." | |
| O please don' t go with those horrible guys, they only want one thing, | |
| Again and again. |
| Three dozen cycles, give or take a sum, | |
| The sum of that experience how to keep running. | |
| O I know justice, it' s a birthright if you' re born right, | |
| and I know how handsome is that trick of the light, | |
| So don' t be mistaken in thinking I' ll do right | |
| given the chance to do wrong again and again. | |
| Summer romeos casing the park, | |
| by the uniform urinals of love' s rural province. | |
| O don' t you know time, with its petty vial of sands, | |
| inscrutable face and merciless hands? | |
| And don' t you know love? | |
| It' s a whirlwind of feathers, | |
| tickles you to your nethers and leaves a terrain of despair | |
| And I know when grief goes unchecked, | |
| There' s a kind of relief in the wreckage for the wrecked | |
| Weren' t you alone last time I saw you? | |
| How do you keep running from the world and the war? | |
| O I know young fathers who once were like soldiers, | |
| AWOL in flung places | |
| or without standing orders, | |
| Alarming approaches to time and it' s killing, | |
| no victimless crime again and again. | |
| Monday night, Goodies and The Doctor, | |
| Now that bath time' s over, time for pyjamas. | |
| O I know self pity, it begins with nostalgia, | |
| and you' ll die of melancholy if the dolor don' t get ya, | |
| And I know a poem on a wall next to a picture | |
| of a and a fanny, by a smear of regret. | |
| And it sings of its own long demise, something about imperium, | |
| and a new sun will rise, | |
| and " O please don' t go with those horrible guys, they only want one thing." | |
| O please don' t go with those horrible guys, they only want one thing, | |
| Again and again. |