You’ve got your politics of symbols, I’ve got my ideology,
but I’d like to know you laughing, unanalytically amused.
Remember how it was as kids? Before we knew how bad it was.
We’re wealthy children, grown up too slow.
Ever think what it would be like to be old?
You’ve got your social justice campaign, I’ve got my spirit-poverty,
but I wish you knew me boldly, unashamedly in love.
Just like you, I camp out, safe, behind my honesty and insight.
We’re spoiled little kids, ready to impress,
still terrified no one’s gonna call us back.
You’ve got your righteous indignation, I’ve got my hard-earned inner peace.
You’ve got your hardened skepticism, I’ve got my battle-won belief.
How strong is my faith in the choir loft?
How strong is your doubt in the fox-hole?
I’ll come downstairs,
if you come outside.