| The more I learn |
| I find how little I really know |
| And I’m standing here before you |
| I don’t know nothing at all |
| Except there is no single saving grace |
| No miracle cures no resting place |
| But I look in the mirror I see a stranger’s face |
| And that these are good times |
| These are good times |
| Good times baby |
| These must be good times |
| Sure the Fear hits hard |
| And I’m alone at night |
| And I can’t tell the difference |
| Between wrong and right |
| I say again that these are good times |
| I’m as guilty as I’m afraid |
| About decisions that I’ve made |
| Ideas that I’ve left behind |
| Friends that I’ve betrayed |
| But a time’s got to come |
| To let the past be past |
| To say some things |
| Were never meant to last |
| And that these are good times |
| These are good times |
| Good times baby |
| These must be good times |
| When the Fear hits hard |
| And I’m alone at night |
| And I can’t tell the difference |
| Between wrong and right |
| I say again that these are good times |
| Life is short |
| And death is long |
| And the drive toward self destruction |
| Is so very very strong |
| But until my foghorn blows |
| I won’t be going home |
| The ghosts of Christmas past |
| Like faded streamers feebly dangle |
| Ripped apart at last by time and lies |
| And the way that they’ve been handled |
| As they fall to the floor |
| They wrap around a broken old radio |
| Playing these are good times |